















I 































CASTLES IN THE AIR 


BARONESS ORCZY 


I 




By BARONESS ORCZY 


Castles in the Air 

The First Sir Percy 

His Majesty’s Well-Beloved 

The League of the Scarlet Pimpernel 

Flower o’ the Lily 

The Man in Grey 

Lord Tony’s Wife 

Leatherface 

The Bronze Eagle 

A Bride of the Plains 

The Laughing Cavalier 

“Unto Gesar” 

El Dorado 
Meadowsweet 
The Noble Rogue 
The Heart of a Woman 
Petticoat Rule 


NEW YORK 

GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 


CASTLES IN 
THE AIR 

BEING THE ADVENTURES OF 
M. HECTOR RATICHON 

RETOLD BY 

BARONESS ORCZY 

Author of “The First Sir Perc\r," “Flower o’ the Lily,” 
“ The Scarlet Pimpernel" etc. 


NEW 


YORK 


GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 




a 




COPYRIGHT, 1922, 

BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 


/ 




PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 

m 171922 n 

©CI.A659620 ^ V 


FOREWORD 


In presenting this engaging rogue to my readers, I feel 
that I owe them, if not an apology, at least an explana- 
tion for this attempt at enlisting sympathy in favour of 
a man who has little to recommend him save his own 
unconscious humour. In very truth my good friend 
Ratichon is an unblushing liar, thief, a forger — any- 
thing you will; his vanity is past belief, his scruples are 
non-existent. How he escaped a convict settlement it 
is difficult to imagine, and hard to realize that he died — • 
presumably some years after the event recorded in the 
last chapter of his autobiography — a respected member 
of the community, honoured by that same society which 
should have raised a punitive hand against him. Yet 
this I believe to be the case. At any rate, in spite of 
close research in the police records of the period, I can 
find no mention of Hector Ratichon. “Heureux le peu- 
ple qui n’a pas d’histoire” applies, therefore, to him, and 
we must take it that Fate and his own sorely troubled 
country dealt lightly with him. 

Which brings me back to my attempt at an explana- 
tion. If Fate dealt kindly, why not we? Since time 
immemorial there have been worse scoundrels unhung 
than Hector Ratichon, and he has the saving grace — 
which few possess — of unruffled geniality. Buffeted by 


71 


FOREWORD 


Fate, sometimes starving, always thirsty, he never com- 
plains; and there is all through his autobiography what 
we might call an “Ah, well!” attitude about his outlook 
on life. Because of this, and because his very fatuity 
makes us smile, I feel that he deserves forgiveness and 
even a certain amount of recognition. 

The fragmentary notes, which I have only very slightly 
modified, came into my hands by a happy chance one 
dull post-war November morning in Paris, when rain, 
sleet and the north wind drove me for shelter under the 
arcades of the Odeon, and a kindly vendor of miscella- 
neous printed matter and mouldy MSS. allowed me to 
rummage amongst a load of old papers which he was 
about to consign to the rubbish heap. I imagine that 
the notes were set down by the actual person to whom 
the genial Hector Ratichon recounted the most conspicu- 
ous events of his chequered career, and as I turned over 
the torn and musty pages, which hung together by scraps 
of mouldy thread, I could not help feeling the humour — 
aye! and the pathos — of that drabby side of old Paris 
which was being revealed to me through the medium 
of this rogue’s adventures. And even as, holding the 
fragments in my hand, I walked home that morning 
through the rain something of that same quaint per- 
sonality seemed once more to haunt the dank and dreary 
streets of the once dazzling Ville Lumiere. I seemed to 
see the shabby bottle-green coat, the nankeen pantaloons, 
the down-at-heel shoes of this “confidant of Kings”; I 
could hear his unctuous, self-satisfied laugh, and sensed 
his furtive footstep whene’er a gendarme came into 


FOREWORD 


vii 

view. I saw his ruddy, shiny face beaming at me 
through the sleet and the rain as, like a veritable squire 
of dames, he minced his steps upon the boulevard, or, 
like a reckless smuggler, affronted the grave dangers of 
mountain fastnesses upon the Juras; and I was quite glad 
to think that a life so full of unconscious humour had 
not been cut short upon the gallows. And I thought 
kindly of him, for he had made me smile. 

There is nothing fine about him, nothing romantic; 
nothing in his actions to cause a single thrill to the 
nerves of the most unsophisticated reader. Therefore, I 
apologize in that I have not held him up to a just obloquy 
because of his crimes, and I ask indulgence for his turpi- 
tudes because of the laughter which they provoke. 

Em musk a Orczy. 

Paris, 1921, 





CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I A Roland For His Oliver 13 

II A Fool’s Paradise . 46 

III On the Brink 72 

IV Carissimo . 1 14 

V The Toys , 152 

VI Honour Among — 192 

VII An Over-Sensitive Heart ....... 221 




CASTLES IN THE AIR 









































* 


















I 









* 






























t 








CASTLES IN THE AIR 


CHAPTER I 

A ROLAND FOR HIS OLIVER 

§ I 

M Y name is Ratichon — Hector Ratichon, at your 
service, and I make so bold as to say that not even 
my worst enemy would think of minimizing the value 
of my services to the State. For twenty years now have 
I placed my powers at the disposal of my country: I 
have served the Republic, and was confidential agent to 
Citizen Robespierre; I have served the Empire, and was 
secret factotum to our great Napoleon; I have served 
King Louis — with a brief interval of one hundred days — 
for the past two years, and I can only repeat that no one, 
in the whole of France, has been so useful or so zealous 
in tracking criminals, nosing out conspiracies, or denounc- 
ing traitors as I have been. 

And yet you see me a poor man to this day : there has 
been a persistently malignant Fate which has worked 
against me all these years, and would — but for a happy 
circumstance of which I hope anon to tell you — have left 
me just as I was, in the matter of fortune, when I first 
13 


14 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


came to Paris and set up in business as a volunteer police 
agent at No. 96 Rue Daunou. 

My apartment in those days consisted of an ante- 
chamber, an outer office where, if need be, a dozen clients 
might sit, waiting their turn to place their troubles, diffi- 
culties, anxieties before the acutest brain in France, and 
an inner room wherein that same acute brain — mine, my 
dear Sir — was wont to ponder and scheme. That apart- 
ment was not luxuriously furnished — furniture being very 
dear in those days — but there were a couple of chairs and 
a table in the outer office, and a cupboard wherein I kept 
the frugal repast which served me during the course of a 
long and laborious day. In the inner office there were 
more chairs and another table, littered with papers : letters 
and packets all tied up with pink tape (which cost three 
sous the metre), and bundles of letters from hundreds of 
clients, from the highest and the lowest in the land, you 
understand, people who wrote to me and confided in me 
to-day as kings and emperors had done in the past. In 
the antechamber there was a chair-bedstead for Theodore 
to sleep on when I required him to remain in town, and a 
chair on which he could sit. 

And, of course, there was Theodore! 

Ah! my dear Sir, of him I can hardly speak without 
feeling choked with the magnitude of my emotion. A 
noble indignation makes me dumb. Theodore, sir, has 
ever been the cruel thorn that times out of number hath 
wounded my over-sensitive heart. Think of it! I had 
picked him out of the gutter! No! no! I do not mean 
this figuratively ! I mean that, actually and in the flesh, 


A ROLAND FOR HIS OLIVER 


15 


I took him up by the collar of his tattered coat and 
dragged him out of the gutter in the Rue Blanche, where 
he was grubbing for trifles out of the slime and mud. He 
was frozen, Sir, and starved — yes, starved ! In the inter- 
vals of picking filth up out of the mud he held out a hand 
blue with cold to the passers-by and occasionally picked 
up a sou. When I found him in that pitiable condition 
he had exactly twenty centimes between him and absolute 
starvation. 

And I, Sir Hector Ratichon, the confidant of two kings, 
three autocrats and an emperor, took that man to my 
bosom — fed him, clothed him, housed him, gave him the 
post of secretary in my intricate, delicate, immensely im- 
portant business — and I did this, Sir, at a salary which, 
in comparison with his twenty centimes, must have seemed 
a princely one to him. 

His duties were light. He was under no obligation to 
serve me or to be at his post before seven o’clock in the 
morning, and all that he had to do then was to sweep 
out the three rooms, fetch water from the well in the 
courtyard below, light the fire in the iron stove which 
stood in my inner office, shell the haricots for his own 
mess of pottage, and put them to boil. During the day 
his duties were lighter still. He had to run errands for 
me, open the door to prospective clients, show them into 
the outer office, explain to them that his master was en- 
gaged on affairs relating to the kingdom of France, and 
generally prove himself efficient, useful and loyal — all of 
which qualities he assured me, my dear Sir, he possessed 
to the fullest degree. And I believed him, Sir; I nur- 


16 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


tured the scorpion in my over-sensitive bosom ! I 
promised him ten per cent, on all the profits of my busi- 
ness, and all the remnants from my own humble repasts 
• — bread, the skins of luscious sausages, the bones from 
savoury cutlets, the gravy from the tasty carrots and 
onions. You would have thought that his gratitude 
would become boundless, that he would almost worship 
the benefactor who had poured at his feet the full cornu- 
copia of comfort and luxury. Not so! That man, Sir, 
was a snake in the grass — a serpent — a crocodile ! Even 
now that I have entirely severed my connexion with that 
ingrate, I seem to feel the wounds, like dagger-thrusts, 
which he dealt me with so callous a hand. But I have 
done with him — done, I tell you ! How could I do other- 
wise than to send him back to the gutter from whence I 
should never have dragged him ? My goodness, he repaid 
with an ingratitude so black that you, Sir, when you hear 
the full story of his treachery, will exclaim aghast. 

Ah, you shall judge ! His perfidy commenced less than 
a week after I had given him my third best pantaloons 
and three sous to get his hair cut, thus making a man of 
him. And yet, you would scarcely believe it, in the mat- 
ter of the secret documents he behaved toward me like a 
veritable Judas ! 

Listen, my dear Sir. 

I told you, I believe, that I had my office in the Rue 
Daunou. You understand that I had to receive my clients 
— many of whom were of exalted rank — in a fashionable 
quarter of Paris. But I actually lodged in Passy — being 
fond of country pursuits and addicted to fresh air — in a 


A ROLAND FOR HIS OLIVER 


17 


humble hostelry under the sign of the “Grey Cat”; and 
here, too, Theodore had a bed. He would walk to the 
office a couple of hours before I myself started on the way, 
and I was wont to arrive as soon after ten o’clock of a 
morning as I could do conveniently. 

On this memorable occasion of which I am about to 
tell you — it was during the autumn of 1815 — I had come 
to the office unusually early, and had just hung my hat 
and coat in the outer room, and taken my seat at my desk 
in the inner office, there to collect my thoughts in prepa- 
ration for the grave events which the day might bring 
forth, when, suddenly, an ill-dressed, dour-looking indi- 
vidual entered the room without so much as saying, “By 
your leave,” and after having pushed Theodore — who 
stood by like a lout — most unceremoniously to one side. 
Before I had time to recover from my surprise at this 
unseemly intrusion, the uncouth individual thrust Theo- 
dore roughly out of the room, slammed the door in his 
face, and having satisfied himself that he was alone with 
me and that the door was too solid to allow of successful 
eavesdropping, he dragged the best chair forward — the 
one, sir, which I reserve for lady visitors. 

He threw his leg across it, and, sitting astride, he leaned 
his elbows over the back and glowered at me as if he 
meant to frighten me. 

“My name is Charles Saurez,” he said abruptly, “and I 
want your assistance in a matter which requires discre- 
tion, ingenuity and alertness. Can I have it?” 

I was about to make a dignified reply when he literally 


18 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


threw the next words at me : “Name your price, and I 
will pay it !” he said. 

What could I do, save to raise my shoulders in token 
that the matter of money was one of supreme indifference 
to me, and my eyebrows in a manner of doubt that M. 
Charles Saurez had the means wherewith to repay my 
valuable services? By way of a rejoinder he took out 
from the inner pocket of his coat a greasy letter-case, and 
with his exceedingly grimy fingers extracted therefrom 
some twenty banknotes, which a hasty glance on my part 
revealed as representing a couple of hundred francs. 

“I will give you this as a retaining fee,” he said, “if 
you will undertake the work I want you to do ; and I will 
double the amount when you have carried the work out 
successfully.” 

Four hundred francs! It was not lavish, it was per- 
haps not altogether the price I would have named, but it 
was very good, these hard times. You understand? We 
were all very poor in France in that year 1815 of which I 
speak. 

I am always quite straightforward when I am dealing 
with a client who means business. I pushed aside the 
litter of papers in front of me, leaned my elbows upon my 
desk, rested my chin in my hands, and said briefly : 

“M. Chades Saurez, I listen !” 

He drew his chair a little closer and dropped his voice 
almost to a whisper. 

“You know the Chancellerie of the Ministry of Foreign 
Affairs ?” he asked. 

“Perfectly,” I replied. 


A ROLAND FOR HIS OLIVER 


19 


“You know M. de Marsan’s private office? He is 
chief secretary to M. de Talleyrand.” 

“No,” I said, “but I can find out.” 

“It is on the first floor, immediately facing the service 
staircase, and at the end of the long passage which leads 
to the main staircase.” 

“Easy to find, then,” I remarked. 

“Quite. At this hour and until twelve o’clock, M. de 
Marsan will be occupied in copying a document which I 
desire to possess. At eleven o’clock precisely there will 
be a noisy disturbance in the corridor which leads to the 
main staircase. M. de Marsan, in all probability, will 
come out of his room to see what the disturbance is about. 
Will you undertake to be ready at that precise moment 
to make a dash from the service staircase into the room to 
seize the document, which no doubt will be lying on the 
top of the desk, and bring it to an address which I am 
about to give you?” 

“It is risky,” I mused. 

“Very,” he retorted drily, “or I’d do it myself, and not 
pay you four hundred francs for your trouble.” 

“Trouble!” I exclaimed, with withering sarcasm. 
“Trouble, you call it? If I am caught, it means penal 
servitude — New Caledonia, perhaps ” 

“Exactly,” he said, with the same irritating calmness ; 
“and if you succeed it means four hundred francs. Take 
it or leave it, as you please, but be quick about it. I have 
no time to waste; it is past nine o’clock already, and if you 
won’t do the work, someone else will.” 

For a few seconds longer I hesitated. Schemes, both 


20 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


varied and wild, rushed through my active brain : refuse 
to take this risk, and denounce the plot to the police; 
refuse it, and run to warn M. de Marsan; refuse it, and — 
I had little time for reflection. My uncouth client was 
standing, as it were, with a pistol to my throat — with a 
pistol and four hundred francs! The police might per- 
haps give me half a louis for my pains, or they might pos- 
sibly remember an unpleasant little incident in connexion 
with the forgery of some Treasury bonds which they have 
never succeeded in bringing home to me — one never 
knows! M. de Marsan might throw me a franc, and 
think himself generous at that ! 

All things considered, then, when M. Charles Saurez 
suddenly said, “Well?” with marked impatience, I replied, 
“Agreed,” and within five minutes I had two hundred 
francs in my pocket, with the prospect of two hundred 
more during the next four and twenty hours. I was to 
have a free hand in conducting my own share of the busi- 
ness, and M. Charles Saurez was to call for the document 
at my lodgings at Passy on the following morning at 
nine o’clock. 


§ 2 

I flatter myself that I conducted the business with re- 
markable skill. At precisely ten minutes to eleven I rang 
at the Chancellerie of the Ministry for Foreign Affairs. 
I was dressed as a respectable commissionnaire, and I car- 
ried a letter and a small parcel addressed to M. de Marsan. 
“First floor,” said the concierge curtly, as soon as he had 


A ROLAND FOR HIS OLIVER 


21 


glanced at the superscription on the letter. “Door faces 
top of the service stairs.” 

I mounted and took my stand some ten steps below the 
landing, keeping the door of M. de Marsan’s room well in 
sight. Just as the bells of Notre Dame boomed the hour 
I heard what sounded like a furious altercation somewhere 
in the corridor just above me. There was much shout- 
ing, then one or two cries of “Murder!” followed by 

others of “What is it?” and “What in the name of 

is all this infernal row about?” Doors were opened and 
banged, there was a general running and rushing along 
that corridor, and the next minute the door in front of 
me was opened also, and a young man came out, pen in 
hand, and shouting just like everybody else : 

“What the is all this infernal row about?” 

“Murder, help !” came from the distant end of the cor- 
ridor, and M. de Marsan — undoubtedly it was he — did 
what any other young man under the like circumstances 
would have done : he ran to see what was happening and 
to lend a hand in it, if need be. I saw his slim figure 
disappearing down the corridor at the very moment that I 
slipped into his room. One glance upon the desk suf- 
ficed : there lay the large official-looking document, with 
the royal signature affixed thereto, and close beside it the 
copy which M. de Marsan had only half finished — the ink 
on it was still wet. Hesitation, Sir, would have been 
fatal. I did not hesitate; not one instant. Three sec- 
onds had scarcely elapsed before I picked up the document, 
together with M. de Marsan’s half-finished copy of the 
same, and a few loose sheets of Chancelferie paper which 


22 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


I thought might be useful. Then I slipped the lot inside 
my blouse. The bogus letter and parcel I left behind me, 
and within two minutes of my entry into the room I was 
descending the service staircase quite unconcernedly, and 
had gone past the concierge’s lodge without being chal- 
lenged. How thankful I was to breathe once more the 
pure air of heaven. I had spent an exceedingly agitated 
five minutes, and even now my anxiety was not altogether 
at rest. I dared not walk too fast lest I attracted atten- 
tion, and yet I wanted to put the river, the Pont Neuf, 
and a half dozen streets between me and the Chancellerie 
of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. No one who has not 
gone through such an exciting adventure as I have just 
recorded can conceive what were my feelings of relief 
and of satisfaction when I at last found myself quietly 
mounting the stairs which led to my office on the top floor 
of No. 96 Rue Daunou. 


§ 3 

Now, I had not said anything to Theodore about this 
affair. It was certainly arranged between us when he 
entered my service as confidential clerk and doorkeeper 
that in lieu of wages, which I could not afford to pay him, 
he would share my meals with me and have a bed at my 
expense in the same house at Passy where I lodged ; more- 
over, I would always give him a fair percentage on the 
profits which I derived from my business. The arrange- 
ment suited him very well. I told you that I picked him 
out of the gutter, and I heard subsequently that he had 


A ROLAND FOR HIS OLIVER 


23 


gone through many an unpleasant skirmish with the 
police in his day, and if I did not employ him no one 
else would. 

After all, he did earn a more or less honest living by 
serving me. But in this instance, since I had not even 
asked for his assistance, I felt that, considering the risks 
of New Caledonia and a convict ship which I had taken, a 
paltry four hundred francs could not by any stretch of 
the imagination rank as a “profit” in a business — and 
Theodore was not really entitled to a percentage, was 
he? 

So when I returned I crossed the ante-chamber and 
walked past him with my accustomed dignity ; nor did he 
offer any comment on my get-up. I often affected a dis- 
guise in those days, even when I was not engaged in 
business, and the dress and get-up of a respectable com- 
missionnaire was a favourite one with me. As soon as 
I had changed I sent him out to make purchases for our 
luncheon — five sous’ worth of stale bread, and ten sous’ 
worth of liver sausage, of which he was inordinately fond. 
He would take the opportunity on the way of getting 
moderately drunk on as many glasses of absinthe as he 
could afford. I saw him go out of the outer door, and 
then I set to work to examine the precious document. 

Well, one glance was sufficient for me to realize its 
incalculable value ! Nothing more or less than a Treaty 
of Alliance between King Louis XVIII of France and the 
King of Prussia in connexion with certain schemes of 
naval construction. I did not understand the whole dip- 
lomatic verbiage, but it was pretty clear to my unsophisti- 


24 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


cated mind that this treaty had been entered into in secret 
by the two monarchs, and that it was intended to prejudice 
the interests both of Denmark and of Russia in the Baltic 
Sea. 

I also realized that both the Governments of Denmark 
and Russia would no doubt pay a very considerable sum 
for the merest glance at this document, and that my client 
of this morning was certainly a secret service agent — 
otherwise a spy — of one of those two countries, who did 
not choose to take the very severe risks which I had taken 
this morning, but who would, on the other hand, reap the 
full reward of the daring coup, whilst I was to be content 
with four hundred francs ! 

Now, I am a man of deliberation as well as of action, 
and at this juncture — feeling that Theodore was still 
safely out of the way — I thought the whole matter over 
quietly, and then took what precautions I thought fit for 
the furthering of my own interests. 

To begin with, I set to work to make a copy of the 
treaty on my own account. I have brought the study of 
calligraphy to a magnificent degree of perfection, and the 
writing on the document was easy enough to imitate, as 
was also the signature of our gracious King Louis and of 
M. de Talleyrand, who had countersigned it. 

If you remember, I had picked up two or three loose 
sheets of paper off M. de Marsan’s desk; these bore the 
arms of the Chancellerie of Foreign Affairs stamped upon 
them, and were in every way identical with that on which 
the original document had been drafted. When I had 
finished my work I flattered myself that not the greatest 


A ROLAND FOR HIS OLIVER 


25 


calligraphic expert could have detected the slightest dif- 
ference between the original and the copy which I had 
made. 

The work took me a long time. When at last I folded 
up the papers and slipped them once more inside my blouse 
it was close upon two. I wondered why Theodore had 
not returned with our luncheon, but on going to the little 
anteroom which divides my office from the outer door, 
great was my astonishment to see him lolling there on the 
rickety chair which he affectioned, and half asleep. I had 
some difficulty in rousing him. Apparently he had got 
rather drunk while he was out, and had then returned and 
slept some of his booze off, without thinking that I might 
be hungry and needing my luncheon. 

“Why didn’t you let me know you had come back?” I 
asked curtly, for indeed I was very cross with him. 

“I thought you were busy,” he replied, with what I 
thought looked like a leer. 

I have never really cared for Theodore, you under- 
stand. 

However, I partook of our modest luncheon with him 
in perfect amity and brotherly love, but my mind was 
busy all the time. I began to wonder if Theodore sus- 
pected something; if so, I knew that I could not trust 
him. He would try and ferret things out, and then de- 
mand a share in my hard-earned emoluments to which he 
was really not entitled. I did not feel safe with that 
bulky packet of papers on me, and I felt that Theodore’s 
bleary eyes were perpetually fixed upon the bulge in the 


26 


CASTI.ES IN THE AIR 


left-hand side of my coat. At one moment he looked so 
strange that I thought he meant to knock me down. 

So my mind was quickly made up. 

After luncheon I would go down to my lodgings at 
Passy, and I knew of a snug little hiding-place in my room 
there where the precious documents would be quite safe 
until such time as I was to hand them — or one of them — 
to M. Charles Saurez. 

This plan I put into execution, and with remarkable 
ingenuity too. 

While Theodore was busy clearing up the debris of our 
luncheon, I not only gave him the slip, but as I went out I 
took the precaution of locking the outer door after me, 
and taking the key away in my pocket. I thus made sure 
that Theodore could not follow me. I then walked to 
Passy — a matter of two kilometres — and by four o’clock 
I had the satisfaction of stowing the papers safely away 
under one of the tiles in the flooring of my room, and then 
pulling the strip of carpet in front of my bed snugly 
over the hiding-place. 

Theodore’s attic, where he slept, was at the top of the 
house, whilst my room was on the ground floor, and so I 
felt that I could now go back quite comfortably to my 
office in the hope that more remunerative work and more 
lavish clients would come my way before nightfall. 

§ 4 

It was a little after five o'clock when I once more turned 
the key in the outer door of my rooms in the Rue Daunou. 


A ROLAND FOR HIS OLIVER 


27 

Theodore did not seem in the least to resent having been 
locked in for two hours. I think he must have been 
asleep most of the time. Certainly I heard a good deal 
of shuffling when first I reached the landing outside the 
door ; but when I actually walked into the apartment with 
an air of quiet unconcern Theodore was sprawling on the 
chair-bedstead, with eyes closed, a nose the colour of beet- 
root, and emitting sounds through his thin, cracked lips 
which I could not, Sir, describe graphically in your pres- 
ence. 

I took no notice of him, however, even though, as I 
walked past him, I saw that he opened one bleary eye and 
watched my every movement. I went straight into my 
private room and shut the door after me. And here, I 
assure you, my dear Sir, I literally fell into my favourite 
chair, overcome with emotion and excitement. Think 
what I had gone through! The events of the last few 
hours would have turned any brain less keen, less daring 
than that of Hector Ratichon. And here was I, alone at 
last, face to face with the future. What a future, my 
dear Sir! Fate was smiling on me at last. At last I 
was destined to reap a rich reward for all the skill, the 
energy, the devotion, which up to this hour I had placed 
at the service of my country and my King — or my Em- 
peror, as the case might be — without thought of my own 
advantage. Here was I now in possession of a document 
— two documents — each one of which was worth at least 
a thousand francs to persons whom I could easily ap- 
proach. One thousand francs ! Was I dreaming? Five 
thousand would certainly be paid by the Government 


28 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


whose agent M. Charles Saurez admittedly was for one 
glance at that secret treaty which would be so prejudicial 
to their political interests; whilst M. de Marsan himself 
would gladly pay another five thousand for the satisfac- 
tion of placing the precious document intact before his 
powerful and irascible uncle. 

Ten thousand francs! How few were possessed of 
such a sum in these days ! How much could be done with 
it! I would not give up business altogether, of course, 
but with my new capital I would extend it and, there was 
a certain little housg, close to Chantilly, a house with a 
few acres of kitchen garden and some fruit trees, the 
possession of which would render me happier than any 
king. ... I would marry ! Oh, yes ! I would certainly 
marry — found a family. I was still young, my dear Sir, 
and passably good looking. In fact there was a certain 
young widow, comely and amiable, who lived not far from 
Passy, who had on more than one occasion given me to 
understand that I was more than passably good looking. 
I had always been susceptible where the fair sex was con- 
cerned, and now . . . oh, now ! I could pick and choose ! 
The comely widow had a small fortune of her own, and 
there were others! . . . 

Thus I dreamed on for the better part of an hour, until, 
soon after six o’clock, there was a knock at the outer 
door and I heard Theodore’s shuffling footsteps crossing 
the small anteroom. There was some muttered conversa- 
tion, and presently my door was opened and Theodore’s 
ugly face was thrust into the room. 

“A lady to see you,” he said curtly. 


A ROLAND FOR HIS OLIVER 


29 


Then, he dropped his voice, smacked his lips, and 
winked with one eye. “Very pretty,” he whispered, “but 
has a young man with her whom she calls Arthur. Shall 
I send them in?” 

I then and there made up my mind that I would get 
rid of Theodore now that I could afford to get a proper 
servant. My business would in future be greatly ex- 
tended ; it would become very important, and I was begin- 
ning to detest Theodore. But I said “Show the lady 
in!” with becoming dignity, and a few moments later a 
beautiful woman entered my room. 

I was vaguely conscious that a creature of my own sex 
walked in behind her, but of him I took no notice. I 
rose to greet the lady and invited her to sit down, but I had 
the annoyance of seeing the personage whom deliberately 
she called “Arthur” coming familiarly forward and lean- 
ing over the back of her chair. 

I hated him. He was short and stout and florid, with 
an impertinent-looking moustache, and hair that was very 
smooth and oily save for two tight curls, which looked 
like the horns of a young goat, on each side of the centre 
parting. I hated him cordially, and had to control my 
feelings not to show him the contempt which I felt for his 
fatuousness and his air of self-complacency. Fortu- 
nately the beautiful being was the first to address me, and 
thus I was able to ignore the very presence of the detest- 
able man. 

“You are M. Ratichon, I believe,” she said in a 
voice that was dulcet and adorably tremulous, like the 


so 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


voice of some sweet, shy young thing in the presence 
of genius and power. 

“Hector Ratichon,” I replied calmly. “Entirely at 
your service, Mademoiselle.’’ Then I added, with gentle, 
encouraging kindliness, “Mademoiselle . . . ?” 

“My name is Geoffroy,” she replied, “Madeleine Geof- 
froy.” 

She raised her eyes — such eyes, my dear Sir ! — of a 
tender, luscious grey, fringed with lashes and dewy with 
tears. I met her glance. Something in my own eyes 
must have spoken with mute eloquence of my distress, 
for she went on quickly and with a sweet smile. “And 
this,” she said, pointing to her companion, “is my brother, 
Arthur Geoffroy.” 

An exclamation of joyful surprise broke from my lips, 
and I beamed and smiled on M. Arthur, begged him to be 
seated, which he refused, and finally I myself sat down 
behind my desk. I now looked with unmixed benevo- 
lence on both my clients, and then perceived that the lady’s 
exquisite face bore unmistakable signs of recent sorrow. 

“And now, Mademoiselle,” I said, as soon as I had 
taken up a position indicative of attention and of encour- 
agement, “will you deign to tell me how I can have the 
honour to serve you?” 

“Monsieur,” she began in a voice that trembled with 
emotion, “I have come to you in the midst of the greatest 
distress that any human being has ever been called upon 
to bear. It was by the merest accident that I heard of 
you. I have been to the police ; they cannot — will not — 
act without I furnish them with certain information which 


A ROLAND FOR HIS OLIVER 


31 


it is not in my power to give them. Then when I was 
half distraught with despair, a kindly agent there spoke 
to me of you. He said that you were attached to the 
police as a voluntary agent, and that they sometimes put 
work in your way which did not happen to be within their 
own scope. He also said that sometimes you were suc- 
cessful.” 

“Nearly always, Mademoiselle,” I broke in firmly and 
with much dignity. “Once more I beg of you to tell me 
in what way I may have the honour to serve you.” 

“It is not for herself, Monsieur,” here interposed M. 
Arthur, whilst a blush suffused Mile. Geoffroy’s lovely 
face, “that my sister desires to consult you, but for her 
fiance M. de Marsan, who is very ill indeed, hovering, in 
fact, between life and death. He could not come in per- 
son. The matter is one that demands the most profound 
secrecy.” 

“You may rely on my discretion, Monsieur,” I mur- 
mured, without showing, I flatter myself, the slightest 
trace of that astonishment which, at mention of M. de 
Marsan’s name, had nearly rendered me speechless. 

“M. de Marsan came to see me in utmost distress, 
Monsieur,” resumed the lovely creature. “He had no one 
in whom he could — or rather dared — confide. He is in 
the Chancellerie for Foreign Affairs. His uncle M. de 
Talleyrand thinks a great deal of him and often entrusts 
him with very delicate work. This morning he gave M. 
de Marsan a valuable paper to copy — a paper, Monsieur, 
the importance of which it were impossible to over- 
estimate. The very safety of this country, the honour of 


32 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


our King, are involved in it. I cannot tell you its exact 
contentSj and it is because I would not tell more about it 
to the police that they would not help me in any way, and 
referred me to you. How could they, said the chief 
Commissary to me, run after a document the contents of 
which they did not even know ? But you will be satisfied 
with what I have told you, will you not, my dear M. 
Ratichon?” she continued, with a pathetic quiver in her 
voice and a look of appeal in her eyes which St. Anthony 
himself could not have resisted, “and help me to regain 
possession of that paper, the final loss of which would 
cost M. de Marsan his life.” 

To say that my feeling of elation of a while ago had 
turned to one of supreme beatitude would be to put it 
very mildly indeed. To think that here was this lovely 
being in tears before me, and that it lay in my power to 
dry those tears with a word and to bring a smile round 
those perfect lips, literally made my mouth water in 
anticipation — for I am sure that you will have guessed, 
just as I did in a moment, that the valuable document of 
which this adorable being was speaking, was snugly hid- 
den away under the flooring of my room in Passy. I 
hated that unknown de Marsan. I hated this Arthur whc* 
leaned so familiarly over her chair, but I had the power to 
render her a service beside which their lesser claims on 
her regard would pale. 

However, I am not the man to act on impulse, even at 
a moment like this. I wanted to think the whole matter 
over first, and . . . well . a ? I had made up my mind to 
demand five thousand francs when I handed the document 


A ROLAND FOR HIS OLIVER 


33 


over to my first client to-morrow morning. At any rate, 
for the moment I acted — if I may say so — with great 
circumspection and dignity. 

“I must presume, Mademoiselle,” I said in my most 
business-like manner, “that the document you speak of 
has been stolen.” 

“Stolen, Monsieur,” she assented whilst the tears once 
more gathered in her eyes, “and M. de Marsan now lies 
at death’s door with a terrible attack of brain fever, 
brought on by shock when he discovered the loss.” 

“How and when was it stolen ?” I asked. 

“Some time during the morning,” she replied. “M. 
de Talleyrand gave the document to M. de Marsan at nine 
o’clock, telling him that he wanted the copy by midday. 
M. de Marsan set to work at once, laboured uninterrupt- 
edly until about eleven o’clock, when a loud altercation, 
followed by cries of ‘Murder!’ and of ‘Help!’ and pro- 
ceeding from the corridor outside his door, caused him to 
run out of the room in order to see what was happening. 
The altercation turned out to be between two men who 
had pushed their way into the building by the main stair- 
case, and who became very abusive to the gendarme who 
ordered them out. The men were not hurt ; nevertheless 
they screamed as if they were being murdered. They 
took to their heels quickly enough, and I don’t know what 
has become of them, but . . .” 

“But,” I concluded blandly, “whilst M. de Marsan was 
out of the room the precious document was stolen.” 

“It was, Monsieur,” exclaimed Mile. Geoffroy 
piteously. “You will find it for us . . . will you not?” 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


34 


Then she added more calmly : “My brother and I are 
offering ten thousand francs reward for the recovery of 
the document.” 

I did not fall off my chair, but I closed my eyes. The 
vision which the lovely lady’s words had conjured up 
dazzled me. 

“Mademoiselle,” I said with solemn dignity, “I pledge 
you my word of honour that I will find the document for 
you and lay it at your feet or die in your service. Give 
me twenty hours, during which I will move heaven and 
earth to discover the thief. I will go at once to the Chan- 
cellerie and collect what evidence I can. I have worked 
under M. de Robespierre, Mademoiselle, under the great 
Napoleon, and under the illustrious Fouche! I have 
never been known to fail, once I have set my mind upon 
a task.” 

“In that case you will earn your ten thousand francs, 
my friend,” said the odious Arthur drily, “and my sister 
and M. de Marsan will still be your debtors. Are there 
any questions you would like to ask before we go?” 

“None,” I said loftily, choosing to ignore his sneering 
manner. “If Mademoiselle deigns to present herself here 
to-morrow at two o’clock I will have news to communi- 
cate to her.” 

You will admit that I carried off the situation in a 
becoming manner. Both Mademoiselle and Arthur 
Geoffroy gave me a few more details in connexion with 
the affair. To these details I listened with well simulated 
interest. Of course, they did not know that there were 
no details in connexion with this affair that I did not 


A ROLAND FOR HIS OLIVER 


35 


know already. My heart was actually dancing within my 
bosom. The future was so entrancing that the present 
appeared like a dream ; the lovely being before me seemed 
like an angel, an emissary from above come to tell me of 
the happiness which was in store for me. The house 
near Chantilly — the little widow — the kitchen garden — 
the magic words went on hammering in my brain. I 
longed now to be rid of my visitors, to be alone once more, 
so as to think out the epilogue of this glorious adventure. 
Ten thousand francs was the reward offered me by 
this adorable creature! Well, then, why should not M. 
Charles Saurez, on his side, pay me another ten thousand 
for the same document, which was absolutely undistin- 
guishable from the first? 

Ten thousand, instead of two hundred which he had the 
audacity to offer me ! 

Seven o’clock had struck before I finally bowed my 
clients out of the room. Theodore had gone. The lazy 
lout would never stay as much as five minutes after his 
appointed time, so I had to show the adorable creature 
and her fat brother out of the premises myself. But I 
did not mind that. I flatter myself that I can always 
carry off an awkward situation in a dignified manner. A 
brief allusion to the inefficiency of present-day servants, a 
jocose comment on my own simplicity of habits, and the 
deed was done. M. Arthur Geoffroy and Mademoiselle 
Madeleine his sister were half-way down the stairs. A 
quarter of an hour later I was once more out in the streets 
of Paris. It was a beautiful, balmy night. I had two 
hundred francs in my pocket and there was a magnificent 


36 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


prospect of twenty thousand francs before me! I could 
afford some slight extravagance. I had dinner at one of 
the fashionable restaurants on the quay, and I remained 
some time out on the terrace sipping my coffee and liqueur, 
dreaming dreams such as I had never dreamed before. 

At ten o’clock I was once more on my way to Passy. 

§ 5 

When I turned the corner of the street and came in sight 
of the squalid house where I lodged, I felt like a being 
from another world. Twenty thousand francs — a for- 
tune! — was waiting for me inside those dingy walls. 
Yes, twenty thousand, for by now I had fully made up 
my mind. I had two documents concealed beneath the 
floor of my bedroom — one so like the other that none 
could tell them apart. One of these I would restore to 
the lovely being who had offered me ten thousand francs 
for it, and the other I would sell to my first and uncouth 
client for another ten thousand francs ! 

Four hundred! Bah! Ten thousand shall you pay 
for the treaty, my friend of the Danish or Russian Secret 
Service ! Ten thousand ! — it is worth that to you ! 

In that happy frame of mind I reached the front door 
of my dingy abode. Imagine my surprise on being con- 
fronted with two agents of police, each with fixed bayo- 
net, who refused to let me pass. 

“But I lodge here,” I said. 

“Your name?” queried one of the men. “Hector 


A ROLAND FOR HIS OLIVER 37 

Ratichon,” I replied. Whereupon they gave me leave to 
enter. 

It was very mysterious. My heart beat furiously. 
Fear for the safety of my precious papers held me in a 
death-like grip. I ran straight to my room, locked the 
door after me, and pulled the curtains together in front 
of the window. Then, with hands that trembled as if 
with ague, I pulled aside the strip of carpet which con- 
cealed the hiding-place of what meant a fortune to me. 

I nearly fainted with joy; the papers were there — quite 
safely. I took them out and replaced them inside my 
coat. 

Then I ran up to see if Theodore was in. I found him 
in bed. He told me that he had left the office whilst my 
visitors were still with me, as he felt terribly sick. He 
had been greatly upset when, about an hour ago, the maid- 
of-all-work had informed him that the police were in the 
house, that they would allow no one — except the persons 
lodging in the house — to enter it, and no one, once in, 
would be allowed to leave. How long these orders would 
hold good Theodore^did not know. 

I left him moaning and groaning and declaring that he 
felt very ill, and I went in quest of information. The 
corporal in command of the gendarmes was exceedingly 
curt with me at first, but after a time he unbent and con- 
descended to tell me that my landlord had been denounced 
for permitting a Bonapartiste club to hold its sittings in 
his house. So far so good. Such denunciations were 
very frequent these days, and often ended unpleasantly 
for those concerned, but the affair had obviously nothing 


38 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


to do with me. I felt that I could breathe again. But 
there was still the matter of the consigne. If no one, save 
the persons who lodged in the house, would be allowed to 
enter it, how would M. Charles Saurez contrive to call 
for the stolen document and, incidentally, to hand me over 
the ten thousand francs I was hoping for? And if no one, 
once inside the house, would be allowed to leave it, how 
could I meet Mile. Geoffroy to-morrow at two o’clock in 
my office and receive ten thousand francs from her in 
exchange for the precious paper? 

Moreover the longer the police stayed in this house and 
poked their noses about in affairs that concerned hard- 
working citizens like myself — why — the greater the risk 
would be of the matter of the stolen document coming 
to light. 

It was positively maddening. 

I never undressed that night, but just lay down on my 
bed, thinking. The house was very still at times, but at 
others I could hear the tramp of the police agents up and 
down the stairs and also outside my window. The latter 
gave on a small, dilapidated back garden which had a 
wooden fence at the end of it. Beyond it were some 
market gardens belonging to a M. Lorraine. It did not 
take me very long to realize that that way lay my fortune 
of twenty thousand francs. But for the moment I re- 
mained very still. My plan was already made. At about 
midnight I went to the \yindow and opened it cautiously. 
I had heard no noise from that direction for some time, 
and I bent my ear to listen. 

Not a sound! Either the sentry was asleep, or he had 


A ROLAND FOR HIS OLIVER 


39 


gone on his round, and for a few moments the way was 
free. Without a moment’s hesitation I swung my leg 
over the sill. 

Still no sound. My heart beat so fast that I could 
almost hear it. The night was very dark. A thin mist- 
like drizzle was falling; in fact the weather conditions 
were absolutely perfect for my purpose. With utmost 
wariness I allowed myself to drop from the window-ledge 
on to the soft ground below. 

If I was caught by the sentry I had my answer ready: 
I was going to meet my sweetheart at the end of the gar- 
den. It is an excuse which always meets with the 
sympathy of every true-hearted Frenchman. The sentry 
would, of course, order me back to my room, but I 
doubt if he would ill-use me ; the denunciation was against 
the landlord, not against me. 

Still not a sound. I could have danced with joy. Five 
minutes more and I would be across the garden and over 
that wooden fence, and once more on my way to fortune. 
My fall from the window had been light, as my room was 
on the ground floor; but I had fallen on my knees, and 
now, as I picked myself up, I looked up, and it seemed to 
me as if I saw Theodore’s ugly face at his attic window. 
Certainly there was a light there, and I may have been 
mistaken as to Theodore’s face being visible. The very 
next second the light was extinguished and I was left in 
doubt. 

But I did not pause to think. In a moment I was 
across the garden, my hands gripped the top of the wooden 
fence, I hoisted myself up — with some difficulty, I confess 


40 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


— but at last I succeeded. I threw my leg over and gently 
dropped down on the other side. 

Then suddenly two rough arms encircled my waist, and 
before I could attempt to free myself a cloth was thrown 
over my head, and I was lifted up and carried away, half 
suffocated and like an insentient bundle. 

When the cloth was removed from my face I was half 
sitting, half lying, in an arm-chair in a strange room which 
was lighted by an oil lamp that hung from the ceiling 
aboye. In front of me stood M. Arthur Geoff roy and 
that beast Theodore. 

M. Arthur Geoff roy was coolly folding up the two 
valuable papers for the possession of which I had risked 
a convict ship and New Caledonia, and which would have 
meant affluence for me for many days to come. 

It was Theodore who had removed the cloth from my 
face. As soon as I had recovered my breath I made 
a rush for him, for I wanted to strangle him. But M. 
Arthur Geoffroy was too quick and too strong for me. 
He pushed me back into the chair. 

“Easy, easy, M. Ratichon,” he said pleasantly ; “do not 
vent your wrath upon this good fellow. Believe me, 
though his actions may have deprived you of a few thou- 
sand francs, they have also saved you from lasting and 
biting remorse. This document, which you stole from 
M. de Marsan and so ingeniously duplicated, involved 
the honour of our King and our country, as well as the 
life of an innocent man. My sister’s fiance would never 
have survived the loss of the document which had been 
entrusted to his honour.” 


A ROLAND FOR HIS OLIVER 


41 


“I would have returned it to Mademoiselle to-morrow/' 
I murmured. 

“Only one copy of it, I think,” he retorted; “the other 
you would have sold to whichever spy of the Danish or 
Russian Governments happened to have employed you 
in this discreditable business.” 

“How did you know ?” I said involuntarily. 

“Through a very simple process of reasoning, my good 
M. Ratichon,” he replied blandly. “You are a very clever 
man, no doubt, but the cleverest of us is at times apt to 
make a mistake. You qgade two, and I profited by them. 
Firstly, after my sister and I left you this afternoon, you 
never made the slightest pretence of making inquiries or 
collecting information about the mysterious theft of the 
document. I kept an eye on you throughout the evening. 
You left your office and strolled for a while on the quays; 
you had an excellent dinner at the Restaurant des Anglais ; 
then you settled down to your coffee and liqueur. Well, 
my good M. Ratichon, obviously you would have been 
more active in the matter if you had not known exactly 
where and when and how to lay your hands upon the 
document, for the recovery of which my sister had offered 
you ten thousand francs.” 

I groaned. I had not been quite so circumspect as I 
ought to have been, but who would have thought 

“I have had something to do with police work in my 
day,” continued M. Geoff roy blandly, “though not of late 
years; but my knowledge of their methods is not alto- 
gether rusty and my powers of observation are not yet 
dulled. During my sister's visit to you this afternoon I 


42 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


noticed the blouse and cap of a commissionnaire lying in 
a bundle in a corner of your room. Now, though M. de 
Marsan has been in a burning fever since he discovered 
his loss, he kept just sufficient presence of mind at the mo- 
ment to say nothing about that loss to any of the Chan- 
cellerie officials, but to go straight home to his apartments 
in the Rue Royale and to send for my sister and for me. 
When we came to him he was already partly delirious, 
but he pointed to a parcel and a letter which he had 
brought away from his office. The parcel proved to be 
an empty box and the letter a blank sheet of paper ; but the 
most casual inquiry of the concierge at the Chancellerie 
elicited the fact that a commissionaire had brought these 
things in the course of the morning. That was your sec- 
ond mistake, my good M. Ratichon ; not a very grave one, 
perhaps, but I have been in the police, and somehow, the 
moment I caught sight of that blouse and cap in your 
office, I could not help connecting it with the commis- 
sionnaire who had brought a bogus parcel and letter to my 
future brother-in-law a few minutes before that mys- 
terious and unexplained altercation took place in the cor- 
ridor.” 

Again I groaned. I felt as a child in the hands of that 
horrid creature who seemed to be dissecting all the 
thoughts which had run riot through my mind these past 
twenty hours. 

“It was all very simple, my good M. Ratichon,” now 
concluded my tormentor still quite amiably. “Another 
time you will have to be more careful, will you not? 
You will also have to bestow more confidence upon your 


A ROLAND FOR HIS OLIVER 


43 


partner or servant. Directly I had seen that commis- 
sionnaire’s blouse and cap, I set to work to make friends 
with M. Theodore. When my sister and I left your 
office in the Rue Daunou, we found him waiting for us 
at the bottom of the stairs. Five francs loosened his 
tongue: he suspected that you were up to some game 
in which you did not mean him to have a share ; he also 
told us that you had spent two hours in laborious writing, 
and that you and he both lodged at a dilapidated little inn, 
called the ‘Grey Cat,’ in Passy. I think he was rather dis- 
appointed that we did not shower more questions, and 
therefore more emoluments, upon him. Well, after I had 
denounced this house to the police as a Bonapartiste club, 
and saw it put under the usual consigne, I bribed the 
corporal of the gendarmerie in charge of it to let me have 
Theodore’s company for the little job I had in hand, and 
also to clear the back garden of sentries so as to give 
you a chance and the desire to escape. All the rest you 
know. Money will do many things, my good M. Rati- 
chon, and you see how simple it all was. It would have 
been still more simple if the stolen document had not been 
such an important one that the very existence of it must 
be kept a secret even from the police. So I could not have 
you shadowed and arrested as a thief in the usual man- 
ner! However, I have the document and its ingenious 
copy, which is all that matters. Would to God, ,, he 
added with a suppressed curse, “that I could get hold 
equally easily of the Secret Service agent to whom you, a 
Frenchman, were going to sell the honour of your 
country !” 


44 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


Then it was that — though broken in spirit and burning 
with thoughts of the punishment I would mete out to The- 
odore — my full faculties returned to me, and I queried 
abruptly : 

“What would you give to get him?” 

“Five hundred francs,” he replied without hesitation. 
“Can you find him?” 

“Make it a thousand,” I retorted, “and you shall have 
him.” 

“How?” 

“Will you give me five hundred francs now,” I insisted, 
“and another five hundred when you have the man, and I 
will tell you?” 

“Agreed,” he said impatiently. 

But I was not to be played with by him again. I 
waited in silence until he had taken a pocket-book from 
the inside of his coat and counted out five hundred francs, 
which he kept in his hand. 

“Now ” he commanded. 

“The man,” I then announced calmly, “will call on me 
for the document at my lodgings at the hostelry of the 
‘Grey Cat’ to-morrow morning at nine o’clock.” 

“Good,” rejoined M. Geoffroy. “We shall be there.” 

He made no demur about giving me the five hundred 
francs, but half my pleasure in receiving them vanished 
when I saw Theodore’s bleary eyes fixed ravenously upon 
them. 

“Another five hundred francs,” M. Geoffroy went on 
quietly, “will be yours as soon as the spy is in our hands.” 

I did get that further five hundred of course, for M. 


A ROLAND FOR HIS OLIVER 


45 


Charles Saurez was punctual to the minute, and M. 
Geoffroy was there with the police to apprehend him. 

But to think that I might have had twenty thousand ! 

And I had to give Theodore fifty francs on the trans- 
action, as he threatened me with the police when I talked 
of giving him the sack. 

But we were quite good friends again after that 
until But you shall judge. 


CHAPTER II 


a fool’s paradise 
§ I 

A H ! my dear Sir, I cannot tell you how poor we all 
were in France in that year of grace 1816 — so poor, 
indeed, that a dish of roast pork was looked upon as a 
feast, and a new gown for the wife an unheard-of luxury. 

The war had ruined everyone. Twenty-two years ! and 
hopeless humiliation and defeat at the end of it. The 
Emperor handed over to the English; a Bourbon sitting 
on the throne of France; crowds of foreign soldiers still 
lording it all over the country — until the country had 
paid its debts to her foreign invaders, and thousands of 
our own men still straggling home through Germany and 
Belgium — the remnants of Napoleon’s Grand Army — ex- 
prisoners of war, or scattered units who had found their 
weary way home at last, shoeless, coatless, half starved 
and perished from cold and privations, unfit for house- 
work, for agriculture, or for industry, fit only to follow 
their fallen hero, as they had done through a quarter of a 
century, to victory and to death. 

With me, Sir, business in Paris was almost at a stand- 
still. I, who had been the confidential agent of two kings, 
three democrats and one emperor; I, who had held diplo- 
46 


A FOOL’S PARADISE 


47 

matic threads in my hands which had caused thrones to 
totter and tyrants to quake, and who had brought more 
criminals and intriguers to book than any other man alive 
— I now sat in my office in the Rue Daunou day after day 
with never a client to darken my doors, even whilst crime 
and political intrigue were more rife in Paris than they 
had been in the most corrupt days of the Revolution and 
the Consulate. 

I told you, I think, that I had forgiven Theodore his 
abominable treachery in connexion with the secret naval 
treaty, and we were the best of friends — that is, out- 
wardly, of course. Within my inmost heart I felt, Sir, 
that. I could never again trust that shameless traitor — that 
I had in very truth nurtured a serpent in my bosom. But 
I am proverbially tender-hearted. You will believe me 
or not, I simply could not turn that vermin out into the 
street. He deserved it ! Oh, even he would have ad- 
mitted when he was quite sober, which was not often, that 
I had every right to give him the sack, to send him back to 
the gutter whence he had come, there to grub once more 
for scraps of filth and to stretch a half-frozen hand to the 
charity of the passers by. 

But I did not do it, Sir. No, I did not do it. I kept 
him on at the office as my confidential servant ; I gave him 
all the crumbs that fell from mine own table, and he helped 
himself to the rest. I made as little difference as I could 
in my intercourse with him. I continued to treat him 
almost as an equal. The only difference I did make in 
our mode of life was that I no longer gave him bed and 
board at the hostelry where I lodged in Passy, but placed 


48 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


the chair-bedstead in the anteroom of the office perma- 
nently at his disposal, and allowed him five sous a day for 
his breakfast. 

But owing to the scarcity of business that now came my 
way, Theodore had little or nothing to do, and he was in 
very truth eating his head off, and with that, grumble, 
grumble all the time, threatening to leave me, if you please, 
to leave my service for more remunerative occupation. 
As if anyone else would dream of employing such an out- 
at-elbows mudlark — a jail-bird, Sir, if you’ll believe me. 

Thus the Spring of 1816 came along. Spring, Sir, 
with its beauty and its promises, and the thoughts of love 
which come eternally in the minds of those who have not 
yet wholly done with youth. Love, Sir ! I dreamed of it 
on those long, weary afternoons in April, after I had con- 
sumed my scanty repast, and whilst Theodore in the ante- 
room was snoring like a hog. At even, when tired out 
and thirsty, I would sit for a while outside a humble cafe 
on the outer boulevards, I watched the amorous couples 
wander past me on their way to happiness. At night I 
could not sleep, and bitter were my thoughts, my revilings 
against a cruel fate that had condemned me — a man with 
so sensitive a heart and so generous a nature — to the sor- 
rows of perpetual solitude. 

That, Sir, was my mood, when on a never-to-be-forgot- 
ten afternoon toward the end of April, I sat mooning dis- 
consolately in my private room and a timid rat-tat at the 
outer door of the apartment roused Theodore from his 
brutish slumbers. I heard him shuffling up to the door, 
and I hurriedly put my necktie straight and smoothed my 


A FOOL’S PARADISE 49 

hair, which had become disordered despite the fact that I 
had only indulged in a very abstemious dejeuner. 

When I said that the knock at my door was in the 
nature of a timid rat-rat I did not perhaps describe it quite 
accurately. It was timid, if you will understand me, and 
yet bold, as coming from one who might hesitate to enter 
and nevertheless feels assured of welcome. Obviously a 
client, I thought. 

Effectively, Sir, the next moment my eyes were glad- 
dened by the sight of a lovely woman, beautifully dressed, 
young, charming, smiling but to hide her anxiety, trust- 
ful, and certainly wealthy. 

The moment she stepped into the room I knew that she 
was wealthy; there was an air of assurance about her 
which only those are able to assume who are not pestered 
with creditors. She wore two beautiful diamond rings 
upon her hands outside her perfectly fitting glove, and her 
bonnet was adorned with flowers so exquisitely fashioned 
that a butterfly would have been deceived and would have 
perched on it with delight. 

Her shoes were of the finest kid, shiny at the toes like 
tiny mirrors, whilst her dainty ankles were framed in the 
filmy lace frills of her pantalets. 

Within the wide brim of her bonnet her exquisite face 
appeared like a rosebud nestling in a basket. She smiled 
when I rose to greet her, gave me a look that sent my 
susceptible heart a-flutter and caused me to wish that I 
had not taken that bottle-green coat of mine to the Mont 
de Piete only last week. 


50 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


I offered her a seat, which she took, arranging her 
skirts about her with inimitable grace. 

“One moment,” I added, as soon as she was seated, “and 
I am entirely at your service.” 

I took up pen and paper — an unfinished letter which 
I always keep handy for the purpose — and wrote rapidly. 
It always looks well for a lawyer or an agent confidential 
to keep a client waiting for a moment or two while he 
attends to the enormous pressure of correspondence which, 
if allowed to accumulate for five minutes, would imme- 
diately overwhelm him. I signed and folded the letter, 
threw it with a nonchalant air into a basket filled to the 
brim with others of equal importance, buried my face in 
my hands for a few seconds as if to collect my thoughts, 
and finally said : 

“And now, Mademoiselle, will you deign to tell me 
what procures me the honour of your visit?” 

The lovely creature had watched my movements with 
obvious impatience, a frown upon her exquisite brow. 
But now she plunged straightway into her story. 

“Monsieur,” she said with that pretty, determined air 
which became her so well, “my name is Estelle Bachelier. 
I am an ophan, an heiress, and have need of help and ad- 
vice. I did not know to whom to apply. Until three 
months ago I was poor and had to earn my living by 
working in a milliner’s shop in the Rue St. Honore. The 
concierge in the house where I used to lodge is my only 
friend, but she cannot help me for reasons which will 
presently be made clear to you. She told me, however, 
that she had a nephew named Theodore, who was clerk 


A FOOL’S PARADISE 


51 


to M. Ratichon, advocate and confidential agent. She 
gave me your address ; and as I knew no one else I deter- 
mined to come and consult you.” 

I flatter myself, that though my countenance is excep- 
tionally mobile, I possess marvellous powers for keeping 
it impassive when necessity arises. In this instance, at 
mention of Theodore’s name, I showed neither surprise 
nor indignation. Yet you will readily understand that I 
felt both. Here was that man, once more revealed as a 
traitor. Theodore had an aunt of whom he had never 
as much as breathed a word. He had an aunt, and that 
aunt a concierge — ipso facto , if I may so express it, a 
woman of some substance, who, no doubt, would often 
have been only too pleased to extend hospitality to the man 
who had so signally befriended her nephew ; a woman, Sir, 
who was undoubtedly possessed of savings which both 
reason and gratitude would cause her to invest in an old- 
established and substantial business run by a trustworthy 
and capable man, such, for instance, as the bureau of a 
confidential agent in a good quarter of Paris, which, with 
the help of a little capital, could be rendered highly lucra- 
tive and beneficial to all those concerned. 

I determined then and there to give Theodore a piece of 
my mind and to insist upon an introduction to his aunt. 
After which I begged the beautiful creature to proceed. 

“My father, Monsieur,” she continued, “died three 
months ago, in England, whither he had emigrated when 
I was a mere child, leaving my poor mother to struggle 
along for a livelihood as best she could. My mother died 
last year, Monsieur, and I have had a hard life; and now 


52 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


it seems that my father made a fortune in England and 
left it all to me.” 

I was greatly interested in her story. 

“The first intimation I had of it, Monsieur, was three 
months ago, when I had a letter from an English lawyer 
in London telling me that my father, Jean Paul Bachelier 
— that was his name, Monsieur — had died out there and 
made a will leaving all his money, about one hundred 
thousand francs, to me/’ 

“Yes, yes!” I murmured, for my throat felt parched 
and my eyes dim. 

Hundred thousand francs ! Ye gods ! 

“It seems,” she proceeded demurely, “that my father 
put it in his will that the English lawyers were to pay me 
the interest on the money until I married or reached the 
age of twenty-one. Then the whole of the money was to 
be handed over to me.” 

I had to steady myself against the table or I would 
have fallen over backwards! This godlike creature, to 
whom the sum of one hundred thousand francs was to be 
paid over when she married, had come to me for help and 
advice! The thought sent my brain reeling! I am so 
imaginative ! 

“Proceed, Mademoiselle, I pray you,” I contrived to 
say with dignified calm. 

“Well, Monsieur, as I don’t know a word of English, 
I took the letter to Mr. Farewell, who is the English trav- 
eller for Madame Cecile, the milliner for whom I worked. 
He is a kind, affable gentleman and was most helpful to 
me. He was, as a matter of fact, just going over to 


A FOOL’S PARADISE 


53 


England the very next day. He offered to go and see the 
English lawyers for me, and to bring me back all partic- 
ulars of my dear father’s death and of my unexpected 
fortune.’’ 

“And,” said I, for she had paused a moment, “did Mr. 
Farewell go to England on your behalf?” 

“Yes, Monsieur. He went and returned about a fort- 
night later. He had seen the English lawyers, who con- 
firmed all the good news which was contained in their 
letter. They took, it seems, a great fancy to Mr. Fare- 
well, and told him that since I was obviously too young to 
live alone and needed a guardian to look after my inter- 
ests, they would appoint him my guardian, and suggested 
that I should make my home with him until I was married 
or had attained the age of twenty-one. Mr. Farewell told 
me that though this arrangement might be somewhat 
inconvenient in his bachelor establishment, he had been 
unable to resist the entreaties of the English lawyers, who 
felt that no one was more fitted for such onerous duties 
than himself, seeing that he was English and so obviously 
my friend.” 

“The scoundrel! The blackguard!” I exclaimed in 
an unguarded outburst of fury. . . . 

“Your pardon, Mademoiselle,” I added more calmly, 
seeing that the lovely creature was gazing at me with 
eyes full of astonishment not unmixed with distrust, “I 
am anticipating. Am I to understand, then, that you 
have made your home with this Mr. Farewell?” 

“Yes, Monsieur, at number sixty-five Rue des Pyra- 
mides.” 


54 


CASTLES IN JTHE AIR 


“Is he a married man?” I asked casually. 

“He is a widower, Monsieur.” 

“Middle-aged?” 

“Quite elderly, Monsieur.” 

I could have screamed with joy. I was not yet forty 
myself. 

“Why!” she added gaily, “he is thinking of retiring 
from business — he is, as I said, a commercial traveller — 
in favour of his nephew, M. Adrien Cazales.” 

Once more I had to steady myself against the table. 
The room swam round me. One hundred thousand 
francs ! — a lovely creature ! — an unscrupulous widower ! — 
an equally dangerous young nephew. I rose and tottered 
to the window. I flung it wide open — a thing I never do 
save at moments of acute crises. 

The breath of fresh air did me good. I returned to 
my desk, and was able once more to assume my habitual 
dignity and presence of mind. 

“In all this, Mademoiselle,” I said in my best profes- 
sional manner, “I do not gather how I can be of service 
to you.” 

“I am coming to that, Monsieur,” she resumed after 
a slight moment of hesitation, even as an exquisite blush 
suffused her damask cheeks. “You must know that at 
first I was very happy in the house of my new guardian. 
He was exceedingly kind to me, though there were times 
already when I fancied . . .” 

She hesitated — more markedly this time — and the blush 
became deeper on her cheeks. I groaned aloud. 

“Surely he is too old,” I suggested. 


A FOOL’S PARADISE 


55 


“Much too old,” she assented emphatically. 

Once more I would have screamed with joy had not a 
sharp pang, like a dagger-thrust, shot through my heart. 

“But the nephew, eh?” I said as jocosely, as indiffer- 
ently as I could. “Young M. Cazales? What?” 

“Oh!” she replied with perfect indifference. “I hardly 
ever see him.” 

Unfortunately it were not seemly for an avocat and 
the agent confidentiel of half the Courts of Europe to 
execute the measures of a polka in the presence of a client, 
or I would indeed have jumped up and danced with glee. 
The happy thoughts were hammering away in my mind : 
“The old one is much too old — the young one she never 
sees!” and I could have knelt down and kissed the hem 
of her gown for the exquisite indifference with which she 
had uttered those magic words : “Oh ! I hardly ever see 
him!” — words which converted my brightest hopes into 
glowing possibilities. 

But, as it was, I held my emotions marvellously in 
check, and with perfect sang-froid once more asked the 
beauteous creature how I could be of service to her in 
her need. 

“Of late, Monsieur,” she said, as she raised a pair of 
limpid, candid blue eyes to mine, “my position in Mr. 
Farewell’s house has become intolerable. He pursues 
me with his attentions, and he has become insanely 
jealous. He will not allow me to speak to anyone, and 
has even forbidden M. Cazales, his own nephew, the 
house. Not that I care about that,” she added with an 
expressive shrug of the shoulders. 


56 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


“He has forbidden M. Cazales the house,” rang like a 
paean in my ear. “Not that she cares about that! Tra 
la, la, la, la, la!” What I actually contrived to say with 
a measured and judicial air was : 

“If you deign to entrust me with the conduct of your 
affairs, I would at once communicate with the English 
lawyers in your name and suggest to them the advisabil- 
ity of appointing another guardian. ... I would suggest, 
for instance . . . er . . . that I . . .” 

“How can you do that, Monsieur ?” she broke in some- 
what impatiently, “seeing that I cannot possibly tell you 
who these lawyers are?” 

“Eh?” I queried, gasping. 

“I neither know their names nor their residence in 
England.” 

Once more I gasped. “Will you explain?” I mur- 
mured. 

“It seems, Monsieur, that while my dear mother lived 
she always refused to take a single sou from my father, 
who had so basely deserted her. Of course, she did not 
know that he was making a fortune over in England, nor 
that he was making diligent inquiries as to her where- 
abouts when he felt that he was going to die. Thus, he 
discovered that she had died the previous year and that I 
was working in the atelier of Madame Cecile, the well- 
known milliner. When the English lawyers wrote to me 
at that address they, of course, said that they would re- 
quire all my papers of identification before they paid any 
money over to me, and so, when Mr. Farewell went over 
to England, he took all my papers with him and . . .” 


A FOOL’S PARADISE 


57 


She burst into tears and exclaimed piteously: 

“Oh! I have nothing now, Monsieur — nothing to 
prove who I am! Mr. Farewell took everything, even 
the original letter which the English lawyers wrote to 
me.” 

“Farewell,” I urged, “can be forced by the law to give 
all your papers up to you.” 

“Oh! I have nothing now, Monsieur — he threatened 
to destroy all my papers unless I promised to become his 
wife! And I haven’t the least idea how and where to 
find the English lawyers. I don’t remember either their 
name or their address; and if I did, how could I prove 
my identity to their satisfaction? I don’t know a soul in 
Paris save a few irresponsible millinery apprentices and 
Madame Cecile, who, no doubt, is hand in glove with Mr. 
Farewell. I am all alone in the world and friend- 
less. ... I have come to you, Monsieur, in my distress 
. . . and you will help me, will you not?” 

She looked more adorable in grief than she had ever 
done before. 

To tell you that at this moment visions floated in my 
mind, before which Dante’s visions of Paradise would 
seem pale and tame, were but to put it mildly. I was 
literally soaring in heaven. For you see I am a man of 
intellect and of action. No sooner do I see possibilities 
before me than my brain soars in an empyrean whilst con- 
ceiving daring plans for my body’s permanent abode in 
elysium. At this present moment, for instance — to name 
but a few of the beatific visions which literally dazzled me 
with their radiance — I could see my fair client as a lovely 


58 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


and blushing bride by my side, even whilst Messieurs 
X. and X., the two still unknown English lawyers, handed 
me a heavy bag which bore the legend “One hundred 
thousand francs.” I could see . . . But I had not the 
time now to dwell on these ravishing dreams. The beaute- 
ous creature was waiting for my decision. She had 
placed her fate in my hands; I placed my hand on my 
heart. 

“Mademoiselle,” I said solemnly, “I will be your adviser 
and your friend. Give me but a few days’ grace, every 
hour, every minute of which I will spend in your service. 
At the end of that time I will not only have learned the 
name and address of the English lawyers, but I will have 
communicated with them on your behalf, and all your 
papers proving your identity will be in your hands. Then 
we can come to a decision with regard to a happier and 
more comfortable home for you. In the meanwhile I 
entreat you to do nothing that may precipitate Mr. Fare- 
well’s actions. Do not encourage his advances, but do 
not repulse them, and above all keep me well informed of 
everything that goes on in his house.” 

She spoke a few words of touching gratitude, then 
she rose, and with a gesture of exquisite grace she ex- 
tracted a hundred-franc note from her reticule and placed 
it upon my desk. 

“Mademoiselle,” I protested with splendid dignity, “I 
have done nothing as yet.” 

“Ah ! but you will, Monsieur,” she entreated in accents 
that completed my subjugation to her charms. “Besides, 
you do not know me ! How could I expect you to work 


A FOOL’S PARADISE 


59 


for me and not to know if, in the end, I should repay 
you for all your trouble? I pray you to take this small 
sum without demur. Mr. Farewell keeps me well sup- 
plied with pocket money. There will be another hundred 
for you when you place the papers in my hands.” 

I bowed to her, and, having once more assured her of 
my unswerving loyalty to her interests, I accompanied her 
to the door, and anon saw her graceful figure slowly 
descend the stairs and then disappear along the corridor. 

Then I went back to my room, and was only just in time 
to catch Theodore calmly pocketing the hundred- franc 
note which my fair client had left on the table. I secured 
the note and I didn’t give him a black eye, for it was no 
use putting him in a bad temper when there was so much 
to do. 

§ 2 

That very same evening I interviewed the concierge 
at No. 65 Rue des Pyramides. From him I learned that 
Mr. Farewell lived on a very small income on the top 
floor of the house, that his household consisted of a house- 
keeper who cooked and did the work of the apartment for 
him, and an odd- job man who came every morning to 
clean boots, knives, draw water and carry up fuel from 
below. I also learned that there was a good deal of gossip 
in the house anent the presence in Mr. Farewell’s bachelor 
establishment of a young and beautiful girl, whom he 
tried to keep a virtual prisoner under his eye. 

The next morning, dressed in a shabby blouse, alpaca 
cap, and trousers frayed out round the ankles, I — Hector 
Ratichon, the confidant of kings — was lounging under the 


60 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


porte-cochere of No. 65 Rue des Pyramides. I was 
watching the movements of a man, similarly attired to 
myself, as he crossed and recrossed the courtyard to 
draw water from the well or to fetch wood from one of 
the sheds, and then disappeared up the main staircase. 

A casual, tactful inquiry of the concierge assured me 
that that man was indeed in the employ of Mr. Farewell. 

I waited as patiently and inconspicuously as I could, 
and at ten o’clock I saw that my man had obviously fin- 
ished his work for the morning and had finally come down 
the stairs ready to go home. I followed him. 

I will not speak of the long halt in the cabaret du Chien 
Noir, where he spent an hour and a half in the company 
of his friends, playing dominoes and drinking eau-de-vie 
whilst I had perforce to cool my heels outside. Suffice 
it to say that I did follow him to his house just behind the 
fish-market, and that half an hour later, tired out but tri- 
umphant, having knocked at his door, I was admitted into 
the squalid room which he occupied. 

He surveyed me with obvious mistrust, but I soon reas- 
sured him. 

“My friend Mr. Farewell has recommended you to 
me,” I said with my usual affability. “I was telling him 
just awhile ago that I needed a man to look after my 
office in the Rue Daunou of a morning, and he told me 
that in you I would find just the man I wanted.” 

“Hm!” grunted the fellow, very sullenly I thought. 
“I work for Farewell in the mornings. Why should he 
recommend me to you? Am I not giving satisfaction?” 

“Perfect satisfaction,” I rejoined urbanely; “that is 


A FOOL’S PARADISE 


61 


just the point. Mr. Farewell desires to do you a good 
turn seeing that I offered to pay you twenty sous for your 
morning’s work instead of the ten which you are getting 
from him.” 

I saw his eyes glisten at mention of the twenty sous. 

“I’d best go and tell him then that I am taking on your 
work,” he said; and his tone was no longer sullen now. 

“Quite unnecessary,” I rejoined. “I arranged every- 
thing with Mr. Farewell before I came to you. He has 
already found someone else to do his work, and I shall 
want you to be at my office by seven o’clock to-morrow 
morning. And,” I added, for I am always cautious and 
judicious, and I now placed a piece of silver in his hand, 
“here are the first twenty sous on account.” 

He took the money and promptly became very civil, 
even obsequious. He not only accompanied me to the 
door, but all the way down the stairs, and assured me all 
the time that he would do his best to give me entire sat- 
isfaction. 

I left my address with him, and sure enough, he turned 
up at the office the next morning at seven o’clock pre- 
cisely. 

Theodore had had my orders to direct him in his work, 
and I was left free to enact the second scene of the mov- 
ing drama in which I was determined to play the hero and 
to ring down the curtain to the sound of the wedding bells. 

§ 3 

I took on the work of odd- job man at 65 Rue des 
Pyramides. Yes, I ! Even I, who had sat in the private 


62 CASTLES IN THE AIR 

room of an emperor discussing the destinies of Europe. 

But with a beautiful bride and one hundred thousand 
francs as my goal I would have worked in a coal mine or 
on the galleys for such a guerdon. 

The task, I must tell you, was terribly irksome to a man 
of my sensibilities, endowed with an active mind and a 
vivid imagination. The dreary monotony of fetching 
water and fuel from below and polishing the boots of that 
arch-scoundrel Farewell would have made a less stout 
spirit quail. I had, of course, seen through the scoun- 
drels game at once. He had rendered Estelle quite help- 
less by keeping all her papers of identification and by 
withholding from her all the letters which, no doubt, the 
English lawyers wrote to her from time to time. Thus 
she was entirely in his power. But, thank heaven! only 
momentarily, for I, Hector Ratichon, argus-eyed, was on 
the watch. Now and then the monotony of my existence 
and the hardship of my task were relieved by a brief 
glimpse of Estelle or a smile of understanding from her 
lips ; now and then she wouuld contrive to murmur as she 
brushed past me while I was polishing the scoundrel’s 
study floor, “Any luck yet?” And this quiet understand- 
ing between us gave me courage to go on with my task. 

After three days I had conclusively made up my mind 
that Mr. Farewell kept his valuable papers in the drawer 
of the bureau in the study. After that I always kept a 
lump of wax ready for use in my pocket. On the fifth 
day I was very nearly caught trying to take an impression 
of the lock of the bureau drawer. On the seventh I suc- 
ceeded, and took the impression over to a locksmith I 


A FOOL’S PARADISE 


63 


knew of, and gave him an order to have a key made to fit 
it immediately. On the ninth day I had the key. 

Then commenced a series of disappointments and of 
unprofitable days which would have daunted one less bold 
and less determined. I don’t think that Farewell ever 
suspected me, but it is a fact that never once did he leave 
me alone in his study whilst I was at work there polishing 
the oak floor. And in the meanwhile I could see how he 
was pursuing my beautiful Estelle with his unwelcome at- 
tentions. At times I feared that he meant to abduct her ; 
his was a powerful personality and she seemed like a 
little bird fighting against the fascination of a serpent. 
Latterly, too, an air of discouragement seemed to dwell 
upon her lovely face. I was half distraught with anxiety, 
and once or twice, whilst I knelt upon the hard floor, 
scrubbing and polishing as if my life depended on it, whilst 
he — the unscrupulous scoundrel — sat calmly at his desk, 
reading or writing, I used to feel as if the next moment I 
must attack him with my scrubbing-brush and knock him 
down senseless whilst I ransacked his drawers. My hor- 
ror of anything approaching violence saved me from so 
foolish a step. 

Then it was that in the hour of my blackest despair a 
flash of genius pierced through the darkness of my misery. 
For some days now Madame Dupont, Farewell’s house- 
keeper, had been exceedingly affable to me. Every morn- 
ing now, when I came to work, there was a cup of hot 
coffee waiting for me, and, when I left, a small parcel of 
something appetizing for me to take away. 

“Hallo!” I said to myself one day, when, over my 


64 * 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


cup of coffee, I caught sight of her small, piggy eyes 
leering at me with an unmistakable expression of admira- 
tion. “Does salvation lie where I least expected it?” 

For the moment I did nothing more than wink at the 
fat old thing, but the next morning I had my arm round 
her waist — a metre and a quarter, Sir, where it was tied 
in the middle — and had imprinted a kiss upon her glossy 
cheek. What that love-making cost me I cannot attempt 
to describe. Once Estelle came into the kitchen when I 
was staggering under a load of a hundred kilos sitting on 
my knee. The reproachful glance which she cast at me 
filled my soul with unspeakable sorrow. 

But I was working for her dear sake; working that I 
might win her in the end. 

A week later Mr. Farewell was absent from home for 
the evening. Estelle had retired to her room, and I was a 
welcome visitor in the kitchen, where Madame Dupont 
had laid out a regular feast for me. I had brought a 
couple of bottles of champagne with me and, what with 
the unaccustomed drink and the ogling and love-making 
to which I treated her, a hundred kilos of foolish woman- 
hood was soon hopelessly addled and incapable. I man- 
aged to drag her to the sofa, where she remained quite 
still, with a beatific smile upon her podgy face, her eyes 
swimming in happy tears. 

I had not a moment to lose. The very next minute I 
was in the study and with a steady hand was opening the 
drawers of the bureau and turning over the letters and 
papers which I found therein. 

Suddenly an exclamation of triumph escaped my lips. 


A FOOL’S PARADISE 


65 


I held a packet in my hand on which was written in a 
clear hand: “The papers of Mile. Estelle Bachelier.” 
A brief examination of the packet sufficed. It consisted 
of a number of letters written in English, which language 
I only partially understand, but they all bore the same 
signature, “John Pike and Sons, solicitors,” and the ad- 
dress was at the top, “168 Cornhill, London.” It also 
contained my Estelle’s birth certificate, her mother’s mar- 
riage certificate, and her police registration card. 

I was rapt in the contemplation of my own ingenuity 
in having thus brilliantly attained my goal, when a stealthy 
noise in the next room roused me from my trance and 
brought up vividly to my mind the awful risks which I 
was running at this moment. I turned like an animal 
at bay to see Estelle’s beautiful face peeping at me through 
the half -open door. 

“Hist!” she whispered. “Have you got the papers?” 

I waved the packet triumphantly. She, excited and 
adorable, stepped briskly into the room. 

“Let me see,” she murmured excitedly. 

But I, emboldened by success, cried gaily : 

“Not till I have received compensation for all that I 
have done and endured.” 

“Compensation ?” 

“In the shape of a kiss.” 

Oh! I won’t say that she threw herself in my arms 
then and there. No, no! She demurred. All young 
girls, it seems, demur under the circumstances; but she 
was adorable, coy and tender in turns, pouting and coax- 
ing, and playing like a kitten till she had taken the papers 


66 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


from me and, with a woman’s natural curiosity, had 
turned the English letters over and over, even though she 
could not read a word of them. 

Then, Sir, in the midst of her innocent frolic and at the 
very moment when I was on the point of snatching the 
kiss which she had so tantalizingly denied me, we heard 
the opening and closing of the front door. 

Mr. Farewell had come home, and there was no other 
egress from the study save the sitting-room, which in its 
turn had no other egress but the door leading into the 
very passage where even now Mr. Farewell was standing, 
hanging up his hat and cloak on the rack. 

§ 4 

We stood hand in hand — Estelle and I — fronting the 
door through which Mr. Farewell would presently appear. 

“To-night we fly together,” I declared. 

“Where to?” she whispered. 

“Can you go to the woman at your former lodgings ?” 

“Yes!” 

“Then I will take you there to-night. To-morrow we 
will be married before the Procureur du Roi ; in the even- 
ing we leave for England.” 

“Yes, yes !” she murmured. 

“When he comes in I’ll engage him in conversation,” I 
continued hurriedly. “You make a dash for the door and 
run downstairs as fast as you can. I’ll follow as quickly 
as may be and meet you under the porte-cochere.” 

She had only just time to nod assent when the door 


A FOOL’S PARADISE 


67 


which gave on the sitting-room was pushed open, and 
Farewell, unconscious at first of our presence, stepped 
quietly into the room. 

“Estelle,’' he cried, more puzzled than angry when he 
suddenly caught sight of us both, “what are you doing 
here with that lout?” 

I was trembling with excitement — not fear, of course, 
though Farewell was a powerful-looking man, a head 
taller than I was. I stepped boldly forward, covering the 
adored one with my body. 

“The lout,” I said with calm dignity, “has frustrated 
the machinations of a knave. To-morrow I go to England 
in order to place Mademoiselle Estelle Bachelier under the 
protection of her legal guardians, Messieurs Pike and 
Sons, solicitors, of London.” 

He gave a cry of rage, and before I could retire to some 
safe entrenchment behind the table or the sofa, he was 
upon me like a mad dog. He had me by the throat, and I 
had rolled backwards down on to the floor, with him on 
the top of me, squeezing the breath out of me till I verily 
thought that my last hour had come. Estelle had run out 
of the room like a startled hare. This, of course, was in 
accordance with my instructions to her, but I could not 
help wishing then that she had been less obedient and 
somewhat more helpful. 

As it was, I was beginning to feel a mere worm in 
the grip of that savage scoundrel, whose face I could 
perceive just above me, distorted with passion, whilst 
hoarse ejaculations escaped his trembling lips : 

“You meddlesome fool ! You oaf ! You toad ! This 


68 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


for your interference !” he added as he gave me a vigorous 
punch on the head. 

I felt my senses reeling. My head was swimming, my 
eyes no longer could see distinctly. It seemed as if an un- 
bearable pressure upon my chest would finally squeeze the 
last breath out of my body. 

I was trying to remember the prayers I used to murmur 
at my mother’s knee, for verily I thought that I was dying, 
when suddenly, through my fading senses, came the sound 
of a long, hoarse cry, whilst the floor was shaken as with 
an earthquake. The next moment the pressure on my 
chest seemed to relax. I could hear Farewell’s voice 
uttering language such as it would be impossible for me to 
put on record; and through it all hoarse and convulsive 
cries of: “You shan’t hurt him — you limb of Satan, 
you !” 

Gradually strength returned to me. I could see as well 
as hear, and what I saw filled me with wonder and with 
pride. Wonder at Ma’ame Dupont’s pluck! Pride in 
that her love for me had given such power to her mighty 
arms ! Aroused from her slumbers by the sound of the 
scuffle, she had run to the study, only to find me in deadly 
peril of my life. Without a second’s hesitation she had 
rushed on Farewell, seized him by the collar, pulled him 
away from me, and then thrown the whole weight of her 
hundred kilos upon him, rendering him helpless. 

Ah, woman ! lovely, selfless woman ! My heart a prey 
to remorse, in that I could not remain in order to thank 
my plucky deliverer, I nevertheless finally struggled to my 
feet and fled from the apartment and down the stairs, 


A FOOL’S PARADISE 69 

never drawing breath till I felt Estelle’s hand resting 
confidingly upon my arm. 


§ 5 

I took her to the house where she used to lodge, and 
placed her under the care of the kind concierge who was 
Theodore’s aunt. Then I, too, went home, determined 
to get a good night’s rest. The morning would be a busy 
one for me. There would be the special licence to get, 
the cure of St. Jacques to interview, the religious cere- 
mony to arrange for, and the places to book on the stage- 
coach for Boulogne en route for England — and fortune. 

I was supremely happy and slept the sleep of the just. 
I was up betimes and started on my round of business at 
eight o’clock the next morning. I was a little troubled 
about money, because when I had paid for the licence and 
given to the cure the required fee for the religious service 
and ceremony, I had only five francs left out of the hun- 
dred which the adored one had given me. However, I 
booked the seats on the stage-coach and determined to 
trust to luck. Once Estelle was my wife, all money care 
would be at an end, since no power on earth could stand 
between me and the hundred thousand francs, the happy 
goal for which I had so ably striven. 

The marriage ceremony was fixed for eleven o’clock, 
and it was just upon ten when, at last, with a light heart 
and springy step, I ran up the dingy staircase which led 
to the adored one’s apartments. I knocked at the door. 
It was opened by a young man, who with a smile courte- 


70 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


ously bade me enter. I felt a little bewildered — and 
slightly annoyed. My Estelle should not receive visits 
from young men at this hour. I pushed past the intruder 
in the passage and walked boldly into the room beyond. 

Estelle was sitting upon the sofa, her eyes bright, her 
mouth smiling, a dimple in each cheek. I approached her 
with outstretched arms, but she paid no heed to me, and 
turned to the young man, who had followed me into the 
room. 

“Adrien,” she said, “this is kind M. Ratichon, who at 
risk of his life obtained for us all my papers of identifi- 
cation and also the valuable name and address of the 
English lawyers.” 

“Monsieur,” added the young man as he extended his 
hand to me, “Estelle and I will remain eternally your 
debtors.” 

I struck at the hand which he had so impudently held 
out to me and turned to Estelle with my usual dignified 
calm, but with wrath expressed in every line of my face. 

“Estelle,” I said, “what is the meaning of this?” 

“Oh,” she retorted with one of her provoking smiles, 
“you must not call me Estelle, you know, or Adrien will 
smack your face. We are indeed grateful to you, my 
good M. Ratichon,” she continued more seriously, “and 
though I only promised you another hundred francs when 
your work for me was completed, my husband and I have 
decided to give you a thousand francs in view of the risks 
which you ran on our behalf.” 

“Your husband!” I stammered. 

“I was married to M. Adrien Cazales a month ago,” she 


A FOOL’S PARADISE 


71 


said, ‘‘but we had perforce to keep our marriage a secret, 
because Mr. Farewell once vowed to me that unless I be- 
came his wife he would destroy all my papers of identifi- 
cation, and then — even if I ever succeeded in discovering 
who were the English lawyers who had charge of my 
father’s money — I could never prove it to them that I and 
no one else was entitled to it. But for you, dear M. 
Ratichon,” added the cruel and shameless one, “I should 
indeed never have succeeded.” 

In the midst of this overwhelming cataclysm I am proud 
to say that I retained mastery over my rage and contrived 
to say with perfect calm : 

“But why have deceived me, Mademoiselle? Why 
have kept your marriage a secret from me? Was I not 
toiling and working and risking my life for you?” 

“And would you have worked quite so enthusiastically 
for me,” queried the false one archly, “if I had told you 
everything?” 

I groaned. Perhaps she was right. I don’t know. 

I took the thousand francs and never saw M. and Mme. 
Cazales again. 

But I met Ma’ame Dupont by accident soon after. She 
has left Mr. Farewell’s service. 

She still weighs one hundred kilos. 

I often call on her of an evening. 

Ah, well ! 


CHAPTER III 


ON THE BRINK 

§ I 

Y OU would have thought that after the shameful 
way in which Theodore treated me in the matter 
of the secret treaty that I would then and there have 
turned him out of doors, sent him back to grub for scraps 
out of the gutter, and hardened my heart once and for all 
against that snake in the grass whom I had nurtured in 
my bosom. 

But, as no doubt you have remarked ere this, I have 
been burdened by Nature with an over-sensitive heart. It 
is a burden, my dear Sir, and though I have suffered inex- 
pressibly under it, I nevertheless agree with the English 
poet, George Crabbe, whose works I have read with a 
great deal of pleasure and profit in the original tongue, 
and who avers in one of his inimitable “Tales” that it is 
“better to love amiss than nothing to have loved.” 

Not that I loved Theodore, you understand? But he 
and I had shared so many ups and downs together of late 
that I was loath to think of him as reduced to begging his 
bread in the streets. Then I kept him by me, for I 
thought that he might at times be useful to me in my 
business. 


72 


ON THE BRINK 


73 


I kept him to my hurt, as you will presently see. 

In those days — I am now speaking of the time immedi- 
ately following the Restoration of our beloved King 
Louis XVIII to the throne of his forbears — Parisian so- 
ciety was, as it were, divided into two distinct categories : 
those who had become impoverished by the revolution and 
the wars of the Empire, and those who had made their 
fortunes thereby. Among the former was M. le Marquis 
de Firmin-Latour, a handsome young officer of cavalry; 
and among the latter was one Mauruss Mosenstein, a 
usurer of the Jewish persuasion, whose wealth was re- 
puted in millions, and who had a handsome daughter 
biblically named Rachel, who a year ago had become 
Madame la Marquise de Firmin-Latour. 

From the first moment that this brilliant young couple 
appeared upon the firmament of Parisian society I took a 
keen interest in all their doings. In those days, you un- 
derstand, it was in the essence of my business to know 
as much as possible of the private affairs of people in 
their position, and instinct had at once told me that in 
the case of M. le Marquis de Firmin-Latour such knowl- 
edge might prove very remunerative. 

Thus I very soon found out that M. le Marquis had not 
a single louis of his own to bless himself with, and that 
it was Papa Mosenstein’s millions that kept up the young 
people’s magnificent establishment in the Rue de Gram- 
mont. 

I also found out that Mme. la Marquise was some dozen 
years older than Monsieur, and that she had been a widow 
when she married him. 


74 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


There were rumours that her first marriage had not 
been a happy one. The husband, M. le Compte de 
Naquet, had been a gambler and a spendthrift, and had 
dissipated as much of his wife’s fortune as he could lay 
his hands on, until one day he went off on a voyage to 
America, or goodness knows where, and was never heard 
of again. Mme. la Comtesse, as she then was, did not 
grieve over her loss; indeed, she returned to the bosom 
of her family, and her father — a shrewd usurer, who had 
amassed an enormous fortune during the wars — suc- 
ceeded, with the aid of his apparently bottomless money- 
bags, in having his first son-in-law declared deceased by 
Royal decree, so as to enable the beautiful Rachel to 
contract another, yet more brilliant alliance, as far as 
name and lineage were concerned, with the Marquis de 
Firmin-Latour. 

Indeed, I learned that the worthy Israelite’s one passion 
was the social advancement of his daughter, whom he 
worshipped. So, as soon as the marriage was consum- 
mated and the young people were home from their honey- 
moon, he fitted up for their use the most extravagantly 
sumptuous apartment Paris had ever seen. Nothing 
seemed too good or too luxurious for Mme. la Marquise 
de Firmin-Latour. He desired her to cut a brilliant figure 
in Paris society — nay, to be the Ville Lumiere’s brightest 
and most particular star. After the town house he bought 
a chateau in the country, horses and carriages, which he 
placed at the disposal of the young couple ; he kept up an 
army of servants for them, and replenished their cellars 
with the choicest wines. He threw money about for 


ON THE BRINK 


75 


diamonds and pearls which his daughter wore, and paid 
all his son-in-law’s tailors’ and shirt-makers’ bills. But 
always the money was his, you understand? The house 
in Paris was his, so was the chateau on the Loire; 
he lent them to his daughter. He lent her the diamonds, 
and the carriages, and the boxes at the opera and 
the Frangais. But here his generosity ended. He 
had been deceived in his daughter’s first husband ; some of 
the money which he had given her had gone to pay the 
gambling debts of an unscrupulous spendthrift. He was 
determined that this should not occur again. A man 
might spend his wife’s money — indeed, the law placed 
most of it at his disposal in those days — but he could not 
touch or mortgage one sou that belonged to his father-in- 
law. And, strangely enough, Mme. la Marquise de 
Firmin-Latour acquiesced and aided her father in his 
determination. Whether it was the Jewish blood in her, 
or merely obedience to old Mosenstein’s whim, it were im- 
possible to say. Certain it is that out of the lavish pin- 
money which her father gave her as a free gift from time 
to time, she only doled out a meagre allowance to her hus- 
band, and although she had everything she wanted, M. le 
Marquis on his side had often less than twenty francs in 
his pocket. 

A very humiliating position, you will admit, Sir, for 
a dashing young cavalry officer. Often have I seen him 
gnawing his finger-nails with rage when, at the end of a 
copious dinner in one of the fashionable restaurants — 
where I myself was engaged in a business capacity to keep 
an eye on possibly light-fingered customers — it would be 


76 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


Mme. la Marquise who paid the bill, even gave the pour- 
boire to the waiter. At such times my heart would be 
filled with pity for his misfortunes, and, in my own proud 
and lofty independence, I felt that I did not envy him his 
wife’s millions. 

Of course, he borrowed from every usurer in the city 
for as long as they would lend him any money; but now 
he was up to his eyes in debt, and there was not a Jew 
inside France who would have lent him one hundred 
francs. 

You see, his precarious position was as well known 
as were his extravagant tastes and the obstinate parsi- 
moniousness of M. Mosenstein. 

But such men as M. le Marquis de Firmin-Latour, you 
understand, Sir, are destined by Nature first and by 
fortuitous circumstances afterwards to become the clients 
of men of ability like myself. I knew that sooner or later 
the elegant young soldier would be forced to seek the 
advice of someone wiser than himself, for indeed his 
present situation could not last much longer. It would 
soon be “sink” with him, for he could no longer “swim.” 

And I was determined that when that time came he 
should turn to me as the drowning man turns to the straw. 

So where M. le Marquis went in public I went, when 
possible. I was biding my time, and wisely too, as you 
will judge. 

§ 2 

Then one day our eyes met : not in a fashionable restau- 
rant, I may tell you, but in a discreet one situated on the 
slopes of Montmartre. I was there alone, sipping a cup 


ON THE BRINK 


77 


of coffee after a frugal dinner. I had drifted in there 
chiefly because I had quite accidentally caught sight of 
M. le Marquis de Firmin-Latour walking arm-in-arm up 
the Rue Lepic with a lady who was both youthful and 
charming — a well-known dancer at the opera. Presently 
I saw him turn into that discreet little restaurant, where, 
in very truth, it was not likely that Mme. la Marquise 
would follow him. But I did. What made me do it, I 
cannot say; but for some time now it had been my wish 
to make the personal acquaintance of M. de Firmin- 
Latour, and I lost no opportunity which might help me to 
attain this desire. 

Somehow the man interested me. His social and 
financial position was peculiar, you will admit, and here, 
methought, was the beginning of an adventure which 
might prove the turning-point in his career and . . . my 
opportunity. I was not wrong, as you will presently see. 
Whilst silently eating my simple dinner, I watched M. de 
Firmin-Latour. 

He had started the evening by being very gay ; he had 
ordered champagne and a succulent meal, and chatted 
light-heartedly with his companion, until presently three 
young women, flashily dressed, made noisy irruption into 
the restaurant. 

M. de Firmin-Latour’s friend hailed them, introduced 
them to him, and soon he was host, not to one lady, but 
to four, and instead of two dinners he had to order five, 
and more champagne, and then dessert — peaches, straw- 
berries, bonbons, liqueurs, flowers, and what not, until I 
could see that the bill which presently he would be called 


78 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


upon to pay would amount to far more than his quarterly 
allowance from Mme. la Marquise, far more, presumably, 
than he had in his pocket at the present moment. 

My brain works with marvellous rapidity, as you know. 
Already I had made up my mind to see the little comedy 
through to the end, and I watched with a good deal of 
interest and some pity the clouds of anxiety gathering 
over M. de Firmin-Latour’s brow. 

The dinner party lasted some considerable time; then 
the inevitable cataclysm occurred. The ladies were busy 
chattering and rouging their lips when the bill was pre- 
sented. They affected to see and hear nothing: it is a 
way ladies have when dinner has to be paid for ; but I saw 
and heard everything. The waiter stood by, silent and 
obsequious at first, whilst M. le Marquis hunted through 
all his pockets. Then there was some whispered col- 
loquy, and the waiter’s attitude lost something of its cor- 
rect dignity. After that the proprietor was called, and 
the whispered colloquy degenerated into altercation, whilst 
the ladies — not at all unaware of the situation — giggled 
amongst themselves. Finally, M. le Marquis offered a 
promissory note, which was refused. 

Then it was that our eyes met. M. de Firmin-Latour 
had flushed to the roots of his hair. His situation was 
indeed desperate, and my opportunity had come. With 
consummate sang-froid, I advanced towards the agitated 
group composed of M. le Marquis, the proprietor, and the 
head waiter. I glanced at the bill, the cause of all this 
turmoil, which reposed on a metal salver in the head 
waiter’s hand, and with a brief : 


ON THE BRINK 79 

“If M. le Marquis will allow me . . I produced 
my pocket-book. 

The bill was for nine hundred francs. 

At first M. le Marquis thought that I was about to pay 
it — and so did the proprietor of the establishment, who 
made a movement as if he would lie down on the floor 
and lick my boots. But not so. To begin with, I did 
not happen to possess nine hundred francs, and if I did, 
I should not have been fool enough to lend them to this 
young scapegrace. No! What I did was to extract 
from my notebook a card, one of a series which I always 
keep by me in case of an emergency like the present one. 
It bore the legend: “Comte Hercule de Montjoie, secre- 
taire particulier de M. le Due d’Otrante,” and below it the 
address, “Palais du Commissariat de Police, 12 Quai 
d’Orsay.” This card I presented with a graceful flourish 
of the arm to the proprietor of the establishment, whilst 
I said with that lofty self-assurance which is one of my 
finest attributes and which I have never seen equalled : 

“M. le Marquis is my friend. I will be guarantee for 
this trifling amount.” 

The proprietor and head waiter stammered excuses. 
Private secretary of M. le Due d’Otrante ! Think of it ! 
It is not often that such personages deign to frequent the 
restaurants of Montmartre. M. le Marquis, on the other 
hand, looked completely bewildered, whilst I, taking ad- 
vantage of the situation, seized him familiarly by the arm, 
and leading him toward the door, I said with condescend- 
ing urbanity : 


80 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


“One word with you, my dear Marquis. It is so long 
since we have met.” 

I bowed to the ladies. 

“Mesdames,” I said, and was gratified to see that they 
followed my dramatic exit with eyes of appreciation and 
of wonder. The proprietor himself offered me my hat, 
and a moment or two later M. de Firmin-Latour and I 
were out together in the Rue Lepic. 

“My dear Comte,” he said as soon as he had recovered 
his breath, “how can I think you? . . .” 

“Not now, Monsieur, not now,” I replied. “You have 
only just time to make your way as quickly as you can 
back to your palace in the Rue de Grammont before our 
friend the proprietor discovers the several mistakes which 
he has made in the past few minutes and vents his wrath 
upon your fair guests.” 

“You are right,” he rejoined lightly. “But I will have 
the pleasure to call on you to-morrow at the Palais du 
Commissariat.” 

“Do no such thing, Monsieur le Marquis,” I retorted 
with a pleasant laugh. “You would not find me there.” 

“But ” he stammered. 

“But,” I broke in with my wonted business-like and 
persuasive manner, “if you think that I have conducted 
this delicate affair for you with tact and discretion, then, 
in your own interest I should advise you to call on me at 
my private office, No. 96 Rue Daunou. Hector Ratichon, 
at your service.” 

He appeared more bewildered than ever. 

“Rue Daunou,” he murmured. “Ratichon!” 


ON THE BRINK 


81 


“Private inquiry and confidential agent/’ I rejoined. 
“My brains are at your service should you desire to extri- 
cate yourself from the humiliating financial position in 
which it has been my good luck to find you, and yours to 
meet with me.” 

With that I left him, Sir, to walk away or stay as he 
pleased. As for me, I went quickly down the street. I 
felt that the situation was absolutely perfect; to have 
spoken another word might have spoilt it. Moreover, 
there was no knowing how soon the proprietor of that 
humble hostelry would begin to have doubts as to the 
identity of the private secretary of M. le Due d’Otrante. 
So I was best out of the way. 

§ 3 

The very next day M. le Marquis de Firmin-Latour 
called upon me at my office in the Rue Daunou. Theo- 
dore let him in, and the first thing that struck me about 
him was his curt, haughty manner and the look of disdain 
wherewith he regarded the humble appointments of my 
business premises. He himself was magnificently 
dressed, I may tell you. His bottle-green coat was of the 
finest cloth and the most perfect cut I had ever seen. 
His kerseymere pantaloons fitted him without a wrinkle. 
He wore gloves, he carried a muff of priceless zibeline, 
and in his cravat there was a diamond the size of a broad 
bean. 

He also carried a malacca cane, which he deposited 
upon my desk, and a gold-rimmed spy-glass which, with a 
gesture of supreme affectation, he raised to his eye. 


82 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


“Now, M. Hector Ratichon,” he said abruptly, “perhaps 
you will be good enough to explain.” 

I had risen when he entered. But now I sat down 
again and coolly pointed to the best chair in the room. 

“Will you give yourself the trouble to sit down, M. 
le Marquis?” I riposted blandly. 

He called me names — rude names ! but I took no notice 
of that . . . and he sat down. 

“Now !” he said once more. 

“What is it you desire to know, M. le Marquis?” I 
queried. 

“Why you interfered in my affairs last night?” 

“Do you complain?” I asked. 

“No,” he admitted reluctantly, “but I don’t under- 
stand your object.” 

“My object was to serve you then,” I rejoined quietly, 
“and later.” 

“What do you mean by ‘later’ ?” 

“To-day,” I replied, “to-morrow; whenever your pres- 
ent position becomes absolutely unendurable.” 

“It is that now,” he said with a savage oath. 

“I thought as much,” was my curt comment. 

“And do you mean to assert,” he went on more 
earnestly, “that you can find a way out of it?” 

“If you desire it — yes!” I said. 

“How?” 

He drew his chair nearer to my desk, and I leaned 
forward, with my elbows on the table, the finger-tips of 
one hand in contact with those of the other. 

“Let us begin by reviewing the situation, shall we, Mon- 
sieur?” I began. 


ON THE BRINK 


83 


“If you wish,” he said curtly. 

“You are a gentleman of refined, not to say luxurious 
tastes, who finds himself absolutely without means to 
gratify them. Is that so?” 

He nodded. 

“You have a wife and a father-in-law who, whilst lav- 
ishing costly treasures upon you, leave you in a humiliat- 
ing dependence on them for actual money.” 

Again he nodded approvingly. 

“Human nature,” I continued with gentle indulgence,, 
“being what it is, you pine after what you do not possess 
— namely, money. Houses, equipages, servants, even 
good food and wine, are nothing to you beside that earnest 
desire for money that you can call your own, and which, 
if only you had it, you could spend at your pleasure.” 

“To the point, man, to the point!” he broke in impa- 
tiently. 

“One moment, M. le Marquis, and I have done. But 
first of all, with your permission, shall we also review the 
assets in your life which we will have to use in order to 
arrive at the gratification of your earnest wish?” 

“Assets ? What do you mean ?” 

“The means to our end. You want money; we must 
find the means to get it for you.” 

“I begin to understand,” he said, and drew his chair 
another inch or two closer to me. 

“Firstly, M. le Marquis,” I resumed, and now my voice 
had become earnest and incisive, “firstly you have a wife, 
then you have a father-in-law whose wealth is beyond the 
dreams of humble people like myself, and whose one great 


84 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


passion in life is the social position of the daughter whom 
he worships. Now,” I added, and with the tip of my 
little finger I touched the sleeve of my aristocratic client, 
“here at once is your first asset. Get at the money-bags 
of papa by threatening the social position of his daugh- 
ter.” 

Whereupon my young gentleman jumped to his feet 
and swore and abused me for a mudlark and a muckworm 
and I don’t know what. He seized his malacca cane and 
threatened me with it, and asked me how the devil I dared 
thus to speak of Mme. la Marquise de Firmin-Latour. 
He cursed, and he stormed and he raved of his sixteen 
quarterings and of my loutishness. He did everything 
in fact except walk out of the room. 

I let him go on quite quietly. It was part of his pro- 
gramme, and we had to go through the performance. 
As soon as he gave me the chance of putting in a word 
edgeways I rejoined quietly: 

“We are not going to hurt Madame la Marquise, Mon- 
sieur; and if you do not want the money, let us say no 
more about it.” 

Whereupon he calmed down ; after a while he sat down 
again, this time with his cane between his knees and its 
ivory knob between his teeth. 

“Go on,” he said curtly. 

Nor did he interrupt me again whilst I expounded 
my scheme to him — one that, mind you, I had evolved 
during the night, knowing well that I should receive 
his visit during the day; and I flatter myself that no 


ON THE BRINK 


85 


finer scheme for the bleeding* of a parsimonious usurer 
was ever devised by any man. 

If it succeeded — and there was no reason why it 
should not — M. de Firmin-Latour would pocket a cool 
half-million, whilst I, sir, the brain that had devised 
the whole scheme, pronounced myself satisfied with the 
paltry emolument of one hundred thousand francs, out 
of which, remember, I should have to give Theodore a 
considerable sum. 

We talked it all over, M. le Marquis and I, the whole 
afternoon. I may tell you at once that he was posi- 
tively delighted with the plan, and then and there gave 
me one hundred francs out of his own meagre purse for 
my preliminary expenses. 


§ 4 

The next morning we began work. 

I had begged M. le Marquis to find the means of bring- 
ing me a few scraps of the late M. le Comte de Naquet’s 
— Madame la Marquise’s first husband — handwriting. 
This, fortunately, he was able to do. They were a 
few valueless notes penned at different times by the de- 
ceased gentleman and which, luckily for us all, Madame 
had not thought it worth while to keep under lock and 
key. 

I think I told you before, did I not? what a mar- 
vellous expert I am in every kind of calligraphy, and 
soon I had a letter ready which was to represent the first 


86 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


fire in the exciting war which we were about to wage 
against an obstinate lady and a parsimonious usurer. 

My identity securely hidden under the disguise of a 
commissionnaire, I took that letter to Mme. la Marquise 
de Firmin-Latour’s sumptuous abode in the Rue de Gram- 
mont. 

M. le Marquis, you understand, had in the meanwhile 
been thoroughly primed in the role which he was to play ; 
as for Theodore, I thought it best for the moment to dis- 
pense with his aid. 

The success of our first skirmish surpassed our expec- 
tations. 

Ten minutes after the letter had been taken upstairs 
to Mme. la Marquise, one of the maids, on going past 
her mistress’s door, was startled to hear cries and moans 
proceeding from Madame’s room. She entered and found 
Madame lying on the sofa, her face buried in the cushions, 
and sobbing and screaming in a truly terrifying man- 
ner. The maid applied the usual restoratives, and after 
a while Madame became more calm and at once very 
curtly ordered the maid out of the room. 

M. le Marquis, on being apprised of this mysterious 
happening, was much distressed; he hurried to his wife’s 
apartments, and was as gentle and loving with her as he 
had been in the early days of their honeymoon. But 
throughout the whole of that evening, and, indeed, for 
the next two days, all the explanation that he could get 
from Madame herself was that she had a headache and 
that the letter which she had received that afternoon was 


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87 


of no consequence and had nothing to do with her 
migraine. 

But clearly the beautiful Rachel was extraordinarily 
agitated. At night she did not sleep, but would pace up 
and down her apartments in a state bordering on frenzy, 
which of course caused M. le Marquis a great deal of 
anxiety and of sorrow. 

Finally, on the Friday morning it seemed as if Madame 
could contain herself no longer. She threw herself into 
her husband’s arms and blurted out the whole truth. M. 
le Comte de Naquet, her first husband, who had been 
declared drowned at sea, and therefore officially deceased 
by Royal decree, was not dead at all. Madame had re- 
ceived a letter from him wherein he told her that he had 
indeed suffered shipwreck, then untold misery on a desert 
island for three years, until he had been rescued by a 
passing vessel, and finally been able, since he was desti- 
tute, to work his way back to France and to Paris. Here 
he had lived for the past few months as best he could, 
trying to collect together a little money so as to render 
himself presentable before his wife, whom he had never 
ceased to love. 

Inquiries disceetly conducted had revealed the terrible 
truth, that Madame had been faithless to him, had light- 
heartedly assumed the death of her husband, and had 
contracted what was nothing less than a bigamous mar- 
riage. Now he, M. de Naquet, standing on his rights 
as Rachel Mosenstein’s only lawful husband, demanded 
that she should return to him, and as a prelude to a per- 
manent and amicable understanding, she was to call at 


88 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


three o’clock precisely on the following Friday at No. 96 
Rue Daunou, where their reconciliation and reunion was 
to take place. 

The letter announcing this terrible news and making 
this preposterous demand she now placed in the hands 
of M. le Marquis, who at first was horrified and thunder- 
struck, and appeared quite unable to deal with the situa- 
tion or to tender advice. For Madame it meant complete 
social ruin, of course, and she herself declared that she 
would never survive such a scandal. Her tears and her 
misery made the loving heart of M. le Marquis bleed in 
sympathy. He did all he could to console and comfort 
the lady, whom, alas! he could no longer look upon as 
his wife. Then, gradually, both he and she became more 
composed. It was necessary above all things to make 
sure that Madame was not being victimized by an im- 
postor, and for this purpose M. le Marquis generously 
offered himself as a disinterested friend and adviser. 
He offered to go himself to the Rue Daunou at the hour 
appointed and to do his best to induce M. le Comte de 
Naquet — if indeed he existed — to forgo his rights on 
the lady who had so innocently taken on the name and 
hand of M. le Marquis de Firmin-Latour. Somewhat 
more calm, but still unconsoled, the beautiful Rachel ac- 
cepted this generous offer. I believe that she even found 
five thousand francs in her privy purse which was to be 
offered to M. de Naquet in exchange for a promise never 
to worry Mme. la Marquise again with his presence. But 
this I have never been able to ascertain with any finality. 
Certain it is that when at three o’clock on that same after- 


ON THE BRINK 


noon M. de Firmin-Latour presented himself at my office, 
he did not offer me a share in any five thousand francs, 
though he spoke to me about the money, adding that he 
thought it would look well if he were to give it back to 
Madame, and to tell her that M. de Naquet had rejected 
so paltry a sum with disdain. 

I thought such a move unnecessary, and we argued 
about it rather warmly, and in the end he went away, as 
I say, without offering me any share in the emolument. 
Whether he did put his project into execution or not I 
never knew. He told me that he did. After that there 
followed for me, Sir, many days, nay, weeks, of anxiety 
and of strenuous work. Mme. la Marquise received sev- 
eral more letters from the supposititious M. de Naquet, 
any one of which would have landed me, Sir, in a ves- 
sel bound for New Caledonia. The discarded husband 
became more and more insistent as time went on, and 
finally sent an ultimatum to Madame saying that he was 
tired of perpetual interviews with M. le Marquis de 
Firmin-Latour, whose right to interfere in the matter he 
now wholly denied, and that he was quite determined to 
claim his lawful wife before the whole world. 

Madame la Marquise, in the meanwhile, had passed 
from one fit of hysterics into another. She denied her 
door to everyone and lived in the strictest seclusion in 
her beautiful apartment of the Rue de Grammont. For- 
tunately this all occurred in the early autumn, when the 
absence of such a society star from fashionable gather- 
ings was not as noticeable as it otherwise would have 


90 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


been. But clearly we were working up for the climax, 
which occurred in the way I am about to relate. 

§ 5 

Ah, my dear Sir, when after all these years I think 
of my adventure with that abominable Marquis, righteous 
and noble indignation almost strikes me dumb. To think 
that with my own hands and brains I literally put half a 
million into that man’s pocket, and that he repaid me 
with the basest ingratitude, almost makes me lose my 
faith in human nature. Theodore, of course, I could pun- 
ish, and did so adequately; and where my chastisement 
failed, Fate herself put the finishing touch. 

But M. de Firmin-Latour . . . ! 

However, you shall judge for yourself. 

As I told you, we now made ready for the climax; 
and that climax, Sir, I can only describe as positively 
gorgeous. We began by presuming that Mme. la Mar- 
quise had now grown tired of incessant demands for inter- 
views and small doles of money, and that she would be 
willing to offer a considerable sum to her first and only 
lawful husband in exchange for a firm guarantee that 
he would never trouble her again as long as she lived. 

We fixed the sum at half a million francs, and the 
guarantee was to take the form of a deed duly executed 
by a notary of repute and signed by the supposititious 
Comte de Naquet. A letter embodying the demand and 
offering the guarantee was thereupon duly sent to Mme. 
la Marquise, and she, after the usual attack of hysterics, 
duly confided the matter to M. de Firmin-Latour. 


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91 


The consultation between husband and wife on the 
deplorable subject was touching in the extreme; and I 
will give that abominable Marquis credit for playing his 
role in a masterly manner. At first he declared to his 
dear Rachel that he did not know what to suggest, for 
in truth she had nothing like half a million on which she 
could lay her hands. To speak of this awful pending 
scandal to Papa Mosenstein was not to be thought of. 
He was capable of repudiating the daughter altogether 
who was bringing such obloquy upon herself and would 
henceforth be of no use to him as a society star. 

As for himself in this terrible emergency, he, of course, 
had less than nothing, or his entire fortune would be 
placed — if he had one — at the feet of his beloved Rachel. 
To think that he was on the point of losing her was more 
than he could bear, and the idea that she would soon 
become the talk of every gossip-monger in society, and 
mayhap be put in prison for bigamy, wellnigh drove him 
crazy. 

What could be done in this awful perplexity he for 
one could not think, unless indeed his dear Rachel were 
willing to part with some of her jewellery; but no! he 
could not think of allowing her to make such a sacrifice. 

Whereupon Madame, like a drowning man, or rather 
woman, catching at a straw, bethought her of her eme- 
ralds. They were historic gems, once the property of 
the Empress Marie-Therese, and had been given to her 
on her second marriage by her adoring father. No, no! 
she would never miss them; she seldom wore them, for 
they were heavy and more valuable than elegant, and 


92 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


she was quite sure that at the Mont de Piete they would 
lend her five hundred thousand francs on them. Then 
gradually they could be redeemed before papa had be- 
come aware of their temporary disappearance. Madame 
would save the money out of the liberal allowance she 
received from him for pin-money. Anything, anything 
was preferable to this awful doom which hung over her 
head. 

But even so M. le Marquis demurred. The thought 
of his proud and fashionable Rachel going to the Mont 
de Piete to pawn her own jewels was not to be thought 
of. She would be seen, recognized, and the scandal 
would be as bad and worse than anything that loomed 
on the black horizon of her fate at this hour. 

What was to be done? What was to be done? 

Then M. le Marquis had a brilliant idea. He knew 
of a man, a very reliable, trustworthy man, attorney-at- 
law by profession, and therefore a man of repute, who 
was often obliged in the exercise of his profession to don 
various disguises when tracking criminals in the outlying 
quarters of Paris. M. le Marquis, putting all pride and 
dignity nobly aside in the interests of his adored Rachel, 
would borrow one of these disguises and himself go to 
the Mont de Piete with the emeralds, obtain the five hun- 
dred thousand francs, and remit them to the man whom 
he hated most in all the world, in exchange for the afore- 
mentioned guarantee. 

Madame la Marquise, overcome with gratitude, threw 
herself, in the midst of a flood of tears, into the arms 
of the man whom she no longer dared to call her hus- 


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93 


band, and so the matter was settled for the moment. M. 
le Marquis undertook to have the deed of guarantee 
drafted by the same notary of repute whom he knew, 
and, if Madame approved of it, the emeralds would then 
be converted into money, and the interview with M. le 
Comte de Naquet fixed for Wednesday, October ioth, at 
some convenient place, subsequently to be determined on 
— in all probability at the bureau of that same ubiquitous 
attorney-at-law, M. Hector Ratichon, at 96 Rue Daunou. 

All was going on excellently well, as you observe. I 
duly drafted the deed, and M. de Firmin-Latour showed 
it to Madame for her approval. It was so simply and 
so comprehensively worded that she expressed herself 
thoroughly satisfied with it, whereupon M. le Marquis 
asked her to write to her shameful persecutor in order 
to fix the date and hour for the exchange of the money 
against the deed duly signed and witnessed. M. le Mar- 
quis had always been the intermediary for her letters, 
you understand, and for the small sums of money which 
she had sent from time to time to the factitious M. de 
Naquet; now he was to be entrusted with the final ne- 
gotiations which, though at a heavy cost, would bring 
security and happiness once more in the sumptuous palace 
of the Rue de Grammont. 

Then it was that the first little hitch occurred. Mme. 
la Marquise — whether prompted thereto by a faint breath 
of suspicion, or merely by natural curiosity — altered her 
mind about the appointment. She decided that M. le Mar- 
quis, having pledged the emeralds, should bring the money 
to her, and she herself would go to the bureau of M. 


94 . 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


Hector Ratichon in the Rue Daunou, there to meet M. 
de Naquet, whom she had not seen for seven years, but 
who had once been very dear to her, and herself fling 
in his face the five hundred thousand francs, the price of 
his silence and of her peace of mind. 

At once, as you perceive, the situation became delicate. 
To have demurred, or uttered more than a casual word 
of objection, would in the case of M. le Marquis have 
been highly impolitic. He felt that at once, the moment 
he raised his voice in protest : and when Madame declared 
herself determined he immediately gave up arguing the 
point. 

The trouble was that we had so very little time wherein 
to formulate new plans. Monsieur was to go the very 
nexfmorning to the Mont de Piete to negotiate the eme- 
ralds, and the interview with the fabulous M. de Naquet 
was to take place a couple of hours later; and it was 
now three o’clock in the afternoon. 

As soon as M. de Firmin-Latour was able to leave his 
wife, he came round to my office. He appeared com- 
pletely at his wits’ end, not knowing what to do. 

“If my wife,” he said, “insists on a personal inter- 
view with de Naquet, who does not exist, our entire 
scheme falls to the ground. Nay, worse! for I shall 
be driven to concoct some impossible explanation for 
the non-appearance of that worthy, and heaven only 
knows if I shall succeed in wholly allaying my wife’s 
suspicions. 

“Ah!” he added with a sigh, “it is doubly hard to 
have seen fortune so near one’s reach and then to see it 


ON THE BRINK 95 

dashed away at one fell swoop by the relentless hand 
of Fate.” 

Not one word, you observe, of gratitude to me or of 
recognition of the subtle mind that had planned and de- 
vised the whole scheme. 

But, Sir, it is at the hour of supreme crises like the 
present one that Hector Ratichon’s genius soars up to 
the empyrean. It became great, Sir; nothing short of 
great; and even the marvellous schemes of the Italian 
Macchiavelli paled before the ingenuity which I now dis- 
played. 

Half an hour’s reflection had sufficed. I had made 
my plans, and I had measured the full length of the ter- 
rible risks which I ran. Among these New Caledonia 
was the least. But I chose to take the risks, Sir; my 
genius could not stoop to measuring the costs of its 
flight. While M. de Firmin-Latour alternately raved 
and lamented I had already planned and contrived. As 
I say, we had very little time: a few hours wherein to 
render ourselves worthy of Fortune’s smiles. And this 
is what I planned. 

You tell me that you were not in Paris during the year 
1816 of which I speak. If you had been, you would 
surely recollect the sensation caused throughout the en- 
tire city by the disappearance of M. le Marquis de Fir- 
min-Latour, one of the most dashing young officers in 
society and one of its acknowledged leaders. It was the 
ioth day of October. M. le Marquis had breakfasted 
in the company of Madame at nine o’clock. A couple of 
hours later he went out, saying he would be home for 


96 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


dejeuner. Madame clearly expected him, for his place was 
laid, and she ordered the dejeuner to be kept back over an 
hour in anticipation of his return. But he did not come. 
The afternoon wore on and he did not come. Madame 
sat down at two o’clock to dejeuner alone. She told the 
major-domo that M. le Marquis was detained in town and 
might not be home for some time. But the major-domo 
declared that Madame’s voice, as she told him this, 
sounded tearful and forced, and that she ate practically 
nothing, refusing one succulent dish after another. 

The staff of servants was thus kept on tenterhooks all 
day, and when the shadows of evening began to draw 
in, the theory was started in the kitchen that M. le Mar- 
quis had either met with an accident or been foully mur- 
dered. No one, however, dared speak of this to Madame 
la Marquise, who had locked herself up in her room in 
the early part of the afternoon, and since then had re- 
fused to see anyone. The major-domo was now at his 
wits’ end. He felt that in a measure the responsibility 
of the household rested upon his shoulders. Indeed he 
would have taken it upon himself to apprise M. Mauruss 
Mosenstein of the terrible happenings, only that the 
worthy gentleman was absent from Paris just then. 

Mme. la Marquise remained shut up in her room until 
past eight o’clock. Then she ordered dinner to be served 
and made pretence of sitting down to it; but again the 
major-domo declared that she ate nothing, whilst subse- 
quently the confidential maid who had undressed her 
vowed that Madame had spent the whole night walking 
up and down the room. 


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97 


Thus two agonizing days went by; agonizing they 
were to everybody. Madame la Marquise became more 
and more agitated, more and more hysterical as time 
went on, and the servants could not help but notice this, 
even though she made light of the whole affair, and des- 
perate efforts to control herself. The heads of her 
household, the major-domo, the confidential maid, the 
chef de cuisine, did venture to drop a hint or two as to 
the possibility of an accident or of foul play, and the 
desirability of consulting the police; but Madame would 
not hear a word of it; she became very angry at the 
suggestion, and declared that she was perfectly well 
aware of M. le Marquis’s whereabouts, that he was well 
and would return home almost immediately. 

As was only natural, tongues presently began to wag. 
Soon it was common talk in Paris that M. le Marquis 
de Firmin-Latour had disappeared from his home and 
that Madame was trying to put a bold face upon the oc- 
currence. There were surmises and there was gossip — 
oh! interminable and long-winded gossip! Minute cir- 
cumstances in connexion with M. le Marquis’s private 
life and Mme. la Marquise’s affairs were freely discussed 
in the cafes, the clubs and restaurants, and as no one 
knew the facts of the case, surmises soon became very 
wild. 

On the third day of M. le Marquis’s disappearance 
Papa Mosenstein returned to Paris from Vichy, where 
he had just completed his annual cure. He arrived at 
Rue de Grammont at three o’clock in the afternoon, de- 
manded to see Mme. la Marquise at once, and then re- 


98 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


maine'd closeted with her in her apartment for over an 
hour. After which he sent for the inspector of police of 
the section, with the result that that very same evening 
M. le Marquis de Firmin-Latour was found locked up in 
an humble apartment on the top floor of a house in the 
Rue Daunou, not ten minutes’ walk from his own house. 
When the police — acting on information supplied to them 
by M. Mauruss Mosenstein — forced their way into that 
apartment, they were horrified to find M. le Marquis de 
Firmin-Latour there, tied hand and foot with cords to 
a chair, his likely calls for help smothered by a woollen 
shawl wound loosely round the lower part of his face. 

He was half dead with inanition, and was conveyed 
speechless and helpless to his home in the Rue de Gram- 
mont, there, presumably, to be nursed back to health by 
Madame his wife. 

§ 6 

Now in all this matter, I ask you, Sir, who ran the 
greatest risk? Why, I — Hector Ratichon, of course — 
Hector Ratichon, in whose apartment M. de Firmin- 
Latour was discovered in a position bordering on abso- 
lute inanition. And the proof of this is, that that self- 
same night I was arrested at my lodgings at Passy, and 
charged with robbery and attempted murder. 

It was a terrible predicament for a respectable citizen, 
a man of integrity and reputation, in which to find him- 
self ; but Papa Mosenstein was both tenacious and vin- 
dictive. His daughter, driven to desperation at last, and 
terrified that M. le Marquis had indeed been foully mur- 


ON THE BRINK 


99 


dered by M. de Naquet, had made a clean breast of the 
whole affair to her father, and he in his turn had put 
the minions of the law in full possession of all the facts; 
and since M. le Comte de Naquet had vanished, leaving 
no manner of trace or clue of his person behind him, 
the police, needing a victim, fell back on an innocent man. 
Fortunately, Sir, that innocence clear as crystal soon 
shines through every calumny. But this was not before 
I had suffered terrible indignities and all the tortures 
which base ingratitude can inflict upon a sensitive heart. 

Such ingratitude as I am about to relate to you has 
never been equalled on this earth, and even after all these 
years, Sir, you see me overcome with emotion at the 
remembrance of it all. I was under arrest, remember, 
on a terribly serious charge, but, conscious of mine own 
innocence and of my unanswerable system of defence, 
I bore the preliminary examination by the juge destruc- 
tion with exemplary dignity and patience. I knew, you 
see, that at my very first confrontation with my supposed 
victim the latter would at once say : 

“Ah ! but no ! This is not the man who assaulted me.” 

Our plan, which so far had been overwhelmingly suc- 
cessful, had been this. 

On the morning of the tenth, M. de Firmin-Latour hav- 
ing pawned the emeralds, and obtained the money for 
them, was to deposit that money in his own name at the 
bank of Raynal Freres and then at once go to the office in 
the Rue Daunou. 

There he would be met by Theodore, who would bind 
him comfortably but securely to a chair, put a shawl 


100 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


around his mouth and finally lock the door on him. 
Theodore would then go to his mother’s and there re- 
main quietly until I needed his services again. 

It had been thought inadvisable for me to be seen 
that morning anywhere in the neighbourhood of the Rue 
Daunou, but that perfidious reptile Theodore ran no risks 
in doing what he was told. To begin with he is a past 
master in the art of worming himself in and out of a 
house without being seen, and in this case it was his 
business to exercise a double measure of caution. And 
secondly, if by some unlucky chance the police did sub- 
sequently connect him with the crime, there was I, his 
employer, a man of integrity and repute, prepared to 
swear that the man had been in my company at the other 
end of Paris all the while that M. le Marquis de Firmin- 
Latour was, by special arrangement, making use of my 
office in the Rue Daunou, which I had lent him for pur- 
poses of business. 

Finally it was agreed between us that when M. le 
Marquis would presently be questioned by the police as 
to the appearance of the man who had assaulted and 
robbed him, he would describe him as tall and blond, 
almost like an Angliche in countenance. Now I possess 
— as you see, Sir — all the finest characteristics of the 
Latin race, whilst Theodore looks like nothing on earth, 
save perhaps a cross between a rat and a monkey. 

I wish you to realize, therefore, that no one ran any 
risks in this affair excepting myself. I, as the proprietor 
of the apartment where the assault was actually supposed 
to have taken place, did run a very grave risk, because 


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101 


I could never have proved an alibi. Theodore was such 
a disreputable mudlark that his testimony on my behalf 
would have been valueless. But with sublime sacrifice 
I accepted these risks, and you will presently see, Sir, 
how I was repaid for my selflessness. I pined in a lonely 
prison-cell while these two limbs of Satan concocted a 
plot to rob me of my share in our mutual undertaking. 

Well, Sir, the day came when I was taken from my 
prison-cell for the purpose of being confronted with 
the man whom I was accused of having assaulted. As 
you will imagine, I was perfectly calm. According to 
our plan the confrontation would be the means of setting 
me free at once. I was conveyed to the house in the Rue 
de Grammont, and here I was kept waiting for some little 
time while the juge destruction went in to prepare M. 
le Marquis, who was still far from well. Then I was 
introduced into the sick-room. I looked about me with 
the perfect composure of an innocent man about to be 
vindicated, and calmly gazed on the face of the sick 
man who was sitting up in his magnificent bed, propped 
up with pillows. 

I met his glance firmly whilst M. le Juge destruction 
placed the question to him in a solemn and earnest tone : 

“M. le Marquis de Firmin-Latour, will you look at 
the prisoner before you and tell us whether you recog- 
nize in him the man who assaulted you?” 

And that perfidious Marquis, Sir, raised his eyes and 
looked me squarely — yes ! squarely — in the face and said 
with incredible assurance: 


102 CASTLES IN THE AIR 

“Yes, Monsieur le Juge, that is the man! I recognize 
him.” 

To me it seemed then as if a thunderbolt had crashed 
through the ceiling and exploded at my feet. I was like 
one stunned and dazed ; the black ingratitude, the abomi- 
nable treachery, completely deprived me of speech. I felt 
choked, as if some poisonous effluvia — the poison, Sir, of 
that man’s infamy — had got into my throat. That state 
of inertia lasted, I believe, less than a second; the next 
I had uttered a hoarse cry of noble indignation. 

“You vampire, you!” I exclaimed. “You viper! 
You . . ” 

I would have thrown myself on him and strangled 
him with glee, but that the minions of the law had me 
by the arms and dragged me away out of the hateful 
presence of that traitor, despite my objurgations and my 
protestations of innocence. Imagine my feelings when 
I found myself once more in a prison-cell, my heart filled 
with unspeakable bitterness against that perfidious Judas. 
Can you wonder that it took me some time before I could 
collect my thoughts sufficiently to review my situation, 
which no doubt to the villain himself who had just 
played me this abominable trick must have seemed des- 
perate indeed? Ah! I could see it all, of course! He 
wanted to see me sent to New Caledonia, whilst he en- 
joyed the fruits of his unpardonable backsliding. In 
order to retain the miserable hundred thousand francs 
which he had promised me he did not hesitate to plunge 
up to the neck in this heinous conspiracy. 

Yes, conspiracy! for the very next day, when I was 


ON THE BRINK 


10S 

once more hailed before the juge destruction, another 
confrontation awaited me: this time with that scurvy 
rogue Theodore. He had been suborned by M. le Mar- 
quis to turn against the hand that fed him. What price 
he was paid for this Judas trick I shall never know, 
and all that I do know is that he actually swore before 
the juge destruction that M. le Marquis de Firmin- 
Latour called at my office in the late forenoon of the 
tenth of October; that I then ordered him — Theodore — 
to go out to get his dinner first, and then to go all the 
way over to Neuilly with a message to someone who 
turned out to be non-existent. He went on to assert 
that when he returned at six o’clock in the afternoon he 
found the office door locked, and I — his employer — pre- 
sumably gone. This at first greatly upset him, because 
he was supposed to sleep on the premises, but seeing 
that there was nothing for it but to accept the inevitable, 
he went round to his mother’s rooms at the back of the 
fish-market and remained there ever since, waiting to 
hear from me. 

That, Sir, was the tissue of lies which that jailbird 
had concocted for my undoing, knowing well that I could 
not disprove them because it had been my task on that 
eventful morning to keep an eye on M. le Marquis whilst 
he went to the Mont de Piete first, and then to MM. Ray- 
nal Freres, the bankers where he deposited the money. 
For this purpose I had been obliged to don a disguise, 
which I had not discarded till later in the day, and thus was 
unable to disprove satisfactorily the monstrous lies told 
by that perjurer. 


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CASTLES IN THE AIR 


Ah! I can see that sympathy for my unmerited mis- 
fortunes has filled your eyes with tears. No doubt in 
your heart you feel that my situation at that hour was 
indeed desperate, and that I — Hector Ratichon, the con- 
fidant of kings, the benefactor of the oppressed — did 
spend the next few years of my life in a penal settlement, 
where those arch-malefactors themselves should have 
been. But no, Sir! Fate may be a fickle jade, rogues 
may appear triumphant, but not for long, Sir, not for 
long! It is brains that conquer in the end . . . brains 
backed by righteousness and by justice. 

Whether I had actually foreseen the treachery of those 
two rattlesnakes, or whether my habitual caution and 
acumen alone prompted me to take those measures of pre- 
caution of which I am about to tell you, I cannot truth- 
fully remember. Certain it is that I did take those pre- 
cautions which ultimately proved to be the means of 
compensating me for most that I had suffered. 

It had been a part of the original plan that, on the day 
immediately following the tenth of October, I, in my 
own capacity as Hector Ratichon, who had been absent 
from my office for twenty-four hours, would arrive there 
in the morning, find the place locked, force an entrance 
into the apartment, and there find M. le Marquis in his 
pitiable plight. After which I would, of course, imme- 
diately notify the police of the mysterious occurrence. 

That had been the role which I had intended to play. 
M. le Marquis approved of it and had professed himself 
quite willing to endure a twenty-four-hours’ martyr- 
dom for the sake of half a million francs. But, as I 


ON THE BRINK 


105 


have just had the honour to tell you, something which I 
will not attempt to explain prompted me at the last mo- 
ment to modify my plan in one little respect. I thought 
it too soon to go back to the Rue Daunou within twenty- 
four hours of our well-contrived coup, and I did not al- 
together care for the idea of going myself to the police 
in order to explain to them that I had found a man 
gagged and bound in my office. The less one has to do 
with these minions of the law the better. Mind you, I 
had envisaged the possibility of being accused of assault 
and robbery, but I did not wish to take, as it were, the 
very first steps myself in that direction. You might call 
this a matter of sentiment or of prudence, as you wish. 

So I waited until the evening of the second day before 
I got the key from Theodore. Then before the concierge 
at 96 Rue Daunou had closed the porte-cochere for the 
night, I slipped into the house unobserved, ran up the 
stairs to my office and entered the apartment. I struck 
a light and made my way to the inner room where the 
wretched Marquis hung in the chair like a bundle of rags. 
I called to him, but he made no movement. As I had 
anticipated, he had fainted for want of food. Of course, 
I was very sorry for him, for his plight was pitiable, 
but he was playing for high stakes, and a little starva- 
tion does no man any harm. In his case there was half 
a million at the end of his brief martyrdom, which could, 
at worst, only last another twenty-four hours. I reckoned 
that Mme. la Marquise could not keep the secret of her 
husband’s possible whereabouts longer than that, and in 


106 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


any event I was determined that, despite all risks, I would 
go myself to the police on the following day. 

In the meanwhile, since I was here and since M. le 
Marquis was unconscious, I proceeded then and there 
to take the precaution which prudence had dictated, and 
without which, seeing this man’s treachery and Theodore’s 
villainy, I should undoubtedly have ended my days as a 
convict. What I did was to search M. le Marquis’s pock- 
ets for anything that might subsequently prove useful 
to me. 

I had no definite idea in the matter, you understand; 
but I had vague notions of finding the bankers’ receipt 
for the half-million francs. 

Well, I did not find that, but I did find the receipt 
from the Mont de Piete for a parure of emeralds on 
which half a million francs had been lent. This I care- 
fully put away in my waistcoat pocket, but as there was 
nothing else I wished to do just then I extinguished the 
light and made my way cautiously out of the apartment 
and out of the house. No one had seen me enter or go 
out, and M. le Marquis had not stirred while I went 
through his pockets. 


§ 7 

That, Sir, was the precaution which I had taken in 
order to safeguard myself against the machinations of 
traitors. And see how right I was; see how hopeless 
would have been my plight at this hour when Theodore, 
too, turned against me like the veritable viper that he 


ON THE BRINK 


107 


was. I never really knew when and under what con- 
ditions the infamous bargain was struck which was in- 
tended to deprive me of my honour and of my liberty, 
nor do I know what emolument Theodore was to receive 
for his treachery. Presumably the two miscreants ar- 
ranged it all some time during that memorable morning 
of the tenth even whilst I was risking my life in their 
service. 

As for M. de Firmin-Latour, that worker of iniquity 
who, in order to save a paltry hundred thousand francs 
from the hoard which I had helped him to acquire, did 
not hesitate to commit such an abominable crime, he did 
not long remain in the enjoyment of his wealth or of his 
peace of mind. 

The very next day I made certain statements before 
M. le Juge d’lnstuction with regard to M. Mauruss 
Mosenstein, which caused the former to summon the 
worthy Israelite to his bureau, there to be confronted 
with me. I had nothing more to lose, since those exe- 
crable rogues had already, as it were, tightened the rope 
about my neck, but I had a great deal to gain — revenge 
above all, and perhaps the gratitude of M. Mosenstein 
for opening his eyes to the rascality of his son-in-law. 

In a stream of eloquent words which could not fail 
to carry conviction, I gave then and there in the bureau 
of the juge destruction my version of the events of the 
past few weeks, from the moment when M. le Marquis 
de Firmin-Latour came to consult me on the subject of 
his wife’s first husband, until the hour when he tried 
to fasten an abominable crime upon me. I told how I 


108 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


had been deceived by my own employe, Theodore, a man 
whom I had rescued out of the gutter and loaded with 
gifts, how by dint of a clever disguise which would 
have deceived his own mother he had assumed the ap- 
pearance and personality of M. le Comte de Naquet, first 
and only lawful lord of the beautiful Rachel Mosenstein. 
I told of the interviews in my office, my earnest desire 
to put an end to this abominable blackmailing by inform- 
ing the police of the whole affair. I told of the false 
M. de Naquet’s threats to create a gigantic scandal which 
would forever ruin the social position of the so-called 
Marquis de Firmin-Latour. I told of M. le Marquis’s 
agonized entreaties, his prayers, supplications, that I 
would do nothing in the matter for the sake of an inno- 
cent lady who had already grievously suffered. I spoke 
of my doubts, my scruples, my desire to do what was 
just and what was right. 

A noble expose of the situation, Sir, you will admit. 
It left me hot and breathless. I mopped my head with 
a handkerchief and sank back, gasping, in the arms of 
the minions of the law. The juge d’instruction ordered 
my removal, not back to my prison-cell but into his own 
ante-room, where I presently collapsed upon a very un- 
comfortable bench and endured the additional humiliation 
of having a glass of water held to my lips. Water ! when 
I had asked for a drink of wine as my throat felt parched 
after that lengthy effort at oratory. 

However, there I sat and waited patiently whilst, no 
doubt, M. le Juge dTnstruction and the noble Israelite 
were comparing notes as to their impression of my mar- 


ON THE BRINK 


109 


vellous speech. I had not long to wait. Less than ten 
minutes later I was once more summoned into the pres- 
ence of M. le Juge; and this time the minions of the 
law were ordered to remain in the antechamber. I thought 
this was of good augury; and I waited to hear M. le 
Juge give forth the order that would at once set me free. 
But it was M. Mosenstein who first addressed me, and 
in very truth surprise rendered me momentarily dumb 
when he did it thus: 

“Now then, you consummate rascal, when you have 
given up the receipt of the Mont de Piete which you stole 
out of M. le Marquis’s pocket you may go and carry on 
your rogueries elsewhere and call yourself mightily lucky 
to have escaped so lightly.” 

I assure you, Sir, that a feather would have knocked 
me down. The coarse insult, the wanton injustice, had 
deprived me of the use of my limbs and of my speech. 
Then the juge d’instruction proceeded dryly: 

“Now then, Ratichon, you have heard what M. Mau- 
russ Mosenstein has been good enough to say to you. 
He did it with my approval and consent. I am prepared 
to give an ordonnanee de non-lieu in your favour which 
will have the effect of at once setting you free if you 
will restore to this gentleman here the Mont de Piete 
receipt which you appear to have stolen.” 

“Sir,” I said with consummate dignity in the face 
of this reiterated taunt, “I have stolen nothing ” 

M. le Juge’s hand was already on the bell-pull. 

“Then,” he said coolly, “I can ring for the gendarmes 


110 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


to take you back to the cells, and you will stand your 
trial for blackmail, theft, assault and robbery.” 

I put up my hand with an elegant and perfectly calm 
gesture. 

“Your pardon, M. le Juge,” I said with the gentle 
resignation of undeserved martyrdom, “I was about to 
say that when I re-visited my rooms in the Rue Daunou 
after a three days’ absence, and found the police in pos- 
session, I picked up on the floor of my private room a 
white paper which on subsequent examination proved 
to be a receipt from the Mont de Piete for some valuable 
gems, and made out in the name of M. le Marquis de 
Firmin-Latour.” 

“What have you done with it, you abominable knave?” 
the irascible old usurer rejoined roughly, and I regret 
to say that he grasped his malacca cane with ominous 
violence. 

But I was not to be thus easily intimidated. 

“Ah! voila, M. le Juge,” I said with a shrug of the 
shoulders. “I have mislaid it. I do not know where 
it is.” 

“If you do not find it,” Mosenstein went on savagely, 
“you will find yourself on a convict ship before long.” 

“In which case, no doubt,” I retorted with suave 
urbanity, “the police will search my rooms where I 
lodge, and they will find the receipt from the Mont de 
Piete, which I had mislaid. And then the gossip will 
be all over Paris that Mme. la Marquise de Firmin- 
Latour had to pawn her jewels in order to satisfy the 
exigencies of her first and only lawful husband who has 


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111 


since mysteriously disappeared; and some people will 
vow that he never came back from the Antipodes, whilst 
others — by far the most numerous — will shrug their 
shoulders and sigh: ‘One never knows!’ which will be 
exceedingly unpleasant for Mme. la Marquise.” 

Both M. Mauruss Mosenstein and the juge d’ instruc- 
tion said a great deal more that afternoon. I may say 
that their attitude towards me and the language that they 
used were positively scandalous. But I had become now 
the master of the situation and I could afford to ignore 
their insults. In the end everything was settled quite 
amicably. I agreed to dispose of the receipt from the 
Mont de Piete to M. Mauruss Mosenstein for the sum 
of two hundred francs, and for another hundred I would 
indicate to him the banking house where his precious 
son-in-law had deposited the half -million francs obtained 
for the emeralds. This latter information I would indeed 
have offered him gratuitously had he but known with 
what immense pleasure I thus put a spoke in that knavish 
Marquis’s wheel of fortune. 

The worthy Israelite further agreed to pay me an 
annuity of two hundred francs so long as I kept silent 
upon the entire subject of Mme. la Marquise’s first hus- 
band and of M. le Marquis’s role in the mysterious affair 
of the Rue Daunou. For thus was the affair classed 
amongst the police records. No one outside the chief 
actors of the drama and M. le Juge d’lnstruction ever 
knew the true history of how a dashing young cavalry 
officer came to be assaulted and left to starve for three 
days in the humble apartment of an attorney-at-law of 


112 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


undisputed repute. And no one outside the private bureau 
of M. le Juge dTnstruction ever knew what it cost the 
wealthy M. Mosenstein to have the whole affair “classed” 
and hushed up. 

As for me, I had three hundred francs as payment 
for work which I had risked my neck and my reputation 
to accomplish. Three hundred instead of the hundred 
thousand which I had so richly deserved: that, and a 
paltry two hundred francs a year, which was to cease 
the moment that as much as a rumour of the whole 
affair was breathed in public. As if I could help people 
talking ! 

But M. le Marquis did not enjoy the fruits of his 
villainy, and I had again the satisfaction of seeing him 
gnaw his finger-nails with rage whenever the lovely 
Rachel paid for his dinner at fashionable restaurants. 
Indeed Papa Mosenstein tightened the strings of his 
money-bags even more securely than he had done in the 
past. Under threats of prosecution for theft and I know 
not what, he forced his son-in-law to disgorge that half- 
million which he had so pleasantly tucked away in the 
banking house of Raynal Freres, and I was indeed thank- 
ful that prudence had, on that memorable morning, sug- 
gested to me the advisability of dogging the Marquis’s 
footsteps. I doubt not but what he knew whence had 
come the thunderbolt which had crushed his last hopes 
of an independent fortune, and no doubt too he does not 
cherish feelings of good will towards me. 

But this eventuality leaves me cold. He has only him- 
self to thank for his misfortune. Everything would have 


ON THE BRINK 


110 


gone well but for his treachery. We would have become 
affluent, he and I and Theodore. Theodore has gone to 
live with his mother, who has a fish-stall in the Halles; 
she gives him three sous a day for washing down the stall 
and selling the fish when it has become too odorous for 
the ordinary customers. 

And he might have had five hundred francs for him- 
self and remained my confidential clerk. 


CHAPTER IV 


CARISSIMO 


§ I 


OU must not think for a moment, my dear Sir, that 



l I was ever actually deceived in Theodore. Was it 
likely that I, who am by temperament and habit accus- 
tomed to read human visages like a book, was it likely, I 
say, that I would fail to see craftiness in those pale, shifty 
eyes, deceit in the weak, slobbering mouth, intemperance 
in the whole aspect of the shrunken, slouchy figure which 
I had, for my subsequent sorrow, so generously rescued 
from starvation? 

Generous? I was more than generous to him. They 
say that the poor are the friends of the poor, and I 
told you how poor we were in those days ! Ah ! but poor ! 
my dear Sir, you have no conception! Meat in Paris 
in the autumn of 1816 was 24 francs the kilo, and milk 
1 franc the quarter litre, not to mention eggs and butter, 
which were delicacies far beyond the reach of cultured, 
well-born people like myself. 

And yet throughout that trying year I fed Theodore — 
yes, I fed him. He used to share onion pie with me 
whenever I partook of it, and he had haricot soup every 
day, into which I allowed him to boil the skins of all 


CARISSIMO 


115 


the sausages and the luscious bones of all the cutlets of 
which I happened to partake. Then think what he cost 
me in drink! Never could I leave a half or quarter bot- 
tle of wine but he would finish it; his impudent fingers 
made light of every lock and key. I dlared not allow 
as much as a sou to rest in the pocket of my coat but 
he would ferret it out the moment I hung the coat up 
in the outer room and my back was turned for a few sec- 
onds. After a while I was forced — yes, I, Sir, who have 
spoken on terms of equality with kings — I was forced to 
go out and make my own purchases in the neighbouring 
provision shops. And why? Because if I sent Theodore 
and gave him a few sous wherewith to make these pur- 
chases, he would spend the money at the nearest cabaret 
in getting drunk on absinthe. 

He robbed me, Sir, shamefully, despite the fact that 
he had ten per cent, commission on all the profits of the 
firm. I gave him twenty francs out of the money which 
I had earned at the sweat of my brow in the service of 
Estelle Bachelier. Twenty francs, Sir! Reckoning two 
hundred francs as business profit on the affair, a gen- 
erous provision you will admit ! And yet he taunted me 
with having received a thousand. This was mere guess- 
work, of course, and I took no notice of his taunts : did 
the brains that conceived the business deserve no pay- 
ment? Was my labour to be counted as dross? — the hu- 
miliation, the blows which I had to endure while he sat 
in hoggish content, eating and sleeping without thought 
for the morrow? After which he calmly pocketed the 


116 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


twenty francs to earn which he had not raised one finger, 
and then demanded more. 

No, no, my dear Sir, you will believe me or not, that 
man could not go straight. Times out of count he would 
try and deceive me, despite the fact that, once or twice, 
he very nearly came hopelessly to grief in the attempt. 

Now, just to give you an instance. About this time 
Paris was in the grip of a gang of dog-thieves as un- 
scrupulous and heartless as they were daring. Can you 
wonder at it? with that awful penury about and a num- 
ber of expensive “tou-tous” running about the streets 
under the very noses of the indigent proletariat? The 
ladies of the aristocracy and of the wealthy bourgeoisie 
had imbibed this craze for lap-dogs during their sojourn 
in England at the time of the emigration, and being 
women of the Latin race and of undisciplined tempera- 
ment, they were just then carrying their craze to excess. 

As I was saying, this indulgence led to wholesale thiev- 
ing. Tou-tous were abstracted from their adoring mis- 
tresses with marvellous adroitness; whereupon two or 
three days would elapse while the adoring mistress wept 
buckets full of tears and set the police of M. Fouche, 
Due d’Otrante, by the ears in search of her pet. The 
next act in the tragi-comedy would be an anonymous de- 
mand for money — varying in amount in accordance with 
the known or supposed wealth of the lady — and an equally 
anonymous threat of dire vengeance upon the tou-tou if 
the police were put upon the track of the thieves. 

You will ask me, no doubt, what all this had to do with 
Theodore. Well! I will tell you. 


CARISSIMO 


117 


You must know that of late he had become extraordi- 
narily haughty and independent. I could not keep him 
to his work. His duties were to sweep the office — he did 
not do it; to light the fires — I had to light them myself 
every morning; to remain in the anteroom and show 
clients in — he was never at his post. In fact he was 
never there when I did want him: morning, noon and 
night he was out — gadding about and coming home, Sir, 
only to eat and sleep. I was seriously thinking of giving 
him the sack. And then one day he disappeared! Yes, 
Sir, disappeared completely as if the earth had swallowed 
him up. One morning — it was in the beginning of De- 
cember and the cold was biting — I arrived at the office 
and found that his chair-bed which stood in the ante- 
chamber had not been slept in; in fact that it had not 
been made up overnight. In the cupboard I found the 
remnants of an onion pie, half a sausage, and a quarter of 
a litre of wine, which proved conclusively that he had 
not been in to supper. 

At first I was not greatly disturbed in my mind. I 
had found out quite recently that Theodore had some sort 
of a squalid home of his own somewhere behind the fish- 
market, together with an old and wholly disreputable 
mother who plied him with drink whenever he spent an 
evening with her and either he or she had a franc in 
their pocket. Still, after these bouts spent in the bosom 
of his family he usually returned to sleep them off" at my 
expense in my office. 

I had unfortunately very little to do that day, so in 
the late afternoon, not having seen anything of Theo- 


118 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


dore all day, I turned my steps toward the house behind 
the fish-market where lived the mother of that ungrateful 
wretch. 

The woman’s surprise when I inquired after her pre- 
cious son was undoubtedly genuine. Her lamentations 
and crocodile tears certainly were not. She reeked of al- 
cohol, and the one room which she inhabited was inde- 
scribably filthy. I offered her half a franc if she gave 
me authentic news of Theodore, knowing well that for 
that sum she would have sold him to the devil. But 
very obviously she knew nothing of his whereabouts, and 
I soon made haste to shake the dirt of her abode from 
my heels. 

I had become vaguely anxious. 

I wondered if he had been murdered somewhere down 
a back street, and if I should miss him very much. 

I did not think that I would. 

Moreover, no one could have any object in murdering 
Theodore. In his own stupid way he was harmless 
enough, and he certainly was not possessed of anything 
worth stealing. I myself was not over- fond of the man 
— but I should not have bothered to murder him. 

Still, I was undoubtedly anxious, and slept but little 
that night thinking of the wretch. When the follow- 
ing morning I arrived at my office and still could see no 
trace of him, I had serious thoughts of putting the law 
in motion on his behalf. 

Just then, however, an incident occurred which drove 
all thoughts of such an insignificant personage as Theo- 
dore from my mind. 


CARISSIMO 


119 


I had just finished tidying up the office when there 
came a peremptory ring at the outer door, repeated at 
intervals of twenty seconds or so. It meant giving a 
hasty glance all round to see that no fragments of onion 
pie or of cheap claret lingered in unsuspected places, and 
it meant my going, myself, to open the door to my impa- 
tient visitor. 

I did it, Sir, and then at the door I stood transfixed. 
I had seen many beautiful women in my day — great 
ladies of the Court, brilliant ladies of the Consulate, the 
Directorate and the Empire — but never in my life had 
I seen such an exquisite and resplendent apparition as 
the one which now sailed through the antechamber of my 
humble abode. 

Sir, Hector Ratichon’ s heart has ever been susceptible 
to the charms of beauty in distress. This lovely being, 
Sir, who now at my invitation entered my office and sank 
with perfect grace into the arm-chair, was in obvious 
distress. Tears hung on the fringe of her dark lashes, 
and the gossamer-like handkerchief which she held in her 
dainty hand was nothing but a wet rag. She gave herself 
exactly two minutes wherein to compose herself, after 
which she dried her eyes and turned the full artillery of 
her bewitching glance upon me. 

“Monsieur Ratichon,” she began, even before I had 
taken my accustomed place at my desk and assumed that 
engaging smile which inspires confidence even in the most 
timorous ; “Monsieur Ratichon, they tell me that you are 
so clever, and — oh ! I am in such trouble.” 

“Madame,” I rejoined with noble simplicity, “you 


120 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


may trust me to do the impossible in order to be of serv- 
ice to you.” 

Admirably put, you will admit. I have always been 
counted a master of appropriate diction, and I had been 
quick enough to note the plain band of gold which en- 
circled the third finger of her dainty left hand, flanked 
though it was by a multiplicity of diamond, pearl and 
other jewelled rings. 

“You are kind, Monsieur Ratichon,” resumed the beau- 
teous creature more calmly. “But indeed you will re- 
quire all the ingenuity of your resourceful brain in order 
to help me in this matter. I am struggling in the grip of 
a relentless fate which, if you do not help me, will leave 
me broken-hearted.” 

“Command me, Madame,” I riposted quietly. 

From out the daintiest of reticules the fair lady now 
extracted a very greasy and very dirty bit of paper, and 
handed it to me with the brief request : “Read this, I pray 
you, my good M. Ratichon.” I took the paper. It was 
a clumsily worded, ill-written, ill-spelt demand for five 
thousand francs, failing which sum the thing which 
Madame had lost would forthwith be destroyed. 

I looked up, puzzled, at my fair client. 

“My darling Carissimo, my dear M. Ratichon,” she 
said in reply to my mute query. 

“Carissimo?” I stammered, yet further intrigued. 

“My darling pet, a valuable creature, the companion of 
my lonely hours,” she rejoined, once more bursting into 
tears. “If I lose him, my heart will inevitably break.” 

I understood at last. 


CARISSIMO 


121 


“Madame has lost her dog?” I asked. 

She nodded. 

“It has been stolen by one of those expert dog thieves, 
who then levy blackmail on the unfortunate owner?” 

Again she nodded in assent. 

I read the dirty, almost illegible scrawl through more 
carefully this time. It was a clumsy notification ad- 
dressed to Mme. la Comtesse de Nole de St. Pris to the 
effect that her tou-tou was for the moment safe, and 
would be restored to the arms of his fond mistress pro- 
vided the sum of five thousand francs was deposited in 
the hands of the bearer of the missive. 

Minute directions were then given as to where and 
how the money was to be deposited. Mme. la Comtesse 
de Nole was, on the third day from this at six o’clock 
in the evening precisely, to go in person and alone to 
the angle of the Rue Guenegaud and the Rue Mazarine, 
at the rear of the Institut. 

There two men would meet her, one of whom would 
have Carissimo in his arms; to the other she must hand 
over the money, whereupon the pet would at once be 
handed back to her. But if she failed to keep this ap- 
pointment, or if in the meanwhile she made the slightest 
attempt to trace the writer of the missive or to lay a trap 
for his capture by the police, Carissimo would at once 
meet with a summary death. 

These were the usual tactics of experienced dog thieves, 
only that in this case the demand was certainly exorbitant. 
Five thousand francs ! But even so ... I cast a rapid 
and comprehensive glance on the brilliant apparition be- 


in 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


fore me — the jewelled rings, the diamonds in the shell- 
like ears, the priceless fur coat — and with an expressive 
shrug of the shoulders I handed the dirty scrap of paper 
back to its fair recipient. 

“Alas, Madame,” I said, taking care that she should 
not guess how much it cost me to give her such advice, 
“I am afraid that in such cases there is nothing to be 
done. If you wish to save your pet you will have to 
pay . . .” 

“Ah! but, Monsieur,” she exclaimed tearfully, “you 
don’t understand. Carissimo is all the world to me, and 
this is not the first time, nor yet the second, that he has 
been stolen from me. Three times, my good M. Ratichon, 
three times has he been stolen, and three times have I 
received such peremptory demands for money for his safe 
return; and every time the demand has been more and 
more exorbitant. Less than a month ago M. le Comte 
paid three thousand francs for his recovery.” 

“Monsieur le Comte?” I queried. 

“My husband, Sir,” she replied, with an exquisite air 
of hauteur. “M. le Comte de Nole de St. Pris.” 

“Ah, then,” I continued calmly, “I fear me that Mon- 
sieur de Nole de St. Pris will have to pay again.” 

“But he won’t!” she now cried out in a voice broken 
with sobs, and incontinently once more saturated her 
gossamer handkerchief with her tears. 

“Then I see nothing for it, Madame,” I rejoined, much 
against my will with a slight touch of impatience, “I 
see nothing for it but that yourself ...” 

“Ah! but, Monsieur,” she retorted, with a sigh that 


CARISSIMO 123 

would have melted a heart of stone, “that is just my 
difficulty. I cannot pay . . 

“Madame/’ I protested. 

“Oh! if I had money of my own,” she continued, with 
an adorable gesture of impatience, “I would not worry. 
Mais voila : I have not a silver franc of my own to bless 
myself with. M. le Comte is over generous. He pays 
all my bills without a murmur — he pays my dressmaker, 
my furrier; he loads me with gifts and dispenses charity 
on a lavish scale in my name. I have horses, carriages, 
servants — everything I can possibly want and more, but 
I never have more than a few hundred francs to dispose 
of. Up to now I have never for a moment felt the want 
of money. To-day, when Carissimo is being lost to me, 
I feel the entire horror of my position.” 

“But surely, Madame,” I urged, “M. le Comte . . 

“No, Monsieur,” she replied. “M. le Comte has flatly 
refused this time to pay these abominable thieves for the 
recovery of Carissimo. He upbraids himself for having 
yielded to their demands on the three previous occasions. 
He calls these demands blackmailing, and vows that to 
give them money again is to encourage them in their 
nefarious practices. Oh! he has been cruel to me, cruel! 
— for the first time in my life, Monsieur, my husband 
has made me unhappy, and if I lose my darling now I 
shall indeed be broken-hearted.” 

I was silent for a moment or two. I was beginning 
to wonder what part I should be expected to play in the 
tragedy which was being unfolded before me by this 
lovely and impecunious creature. 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


124 

“Madame la Comtesse,” I suggested tentatively, after 
a while, “your jewellery . . . you must have a vast 
number which you seldom wear . . . five thousand francs 
is soon made up. . . 

You see, Sir, my hopes of a really good remunera- 
tive business had by now dwindled down to vanishing 
point. All that was left of them was a vague idea that 
the beautiful Comtesse would perhaps employ me as an 
intermediary for the sale of some of her jewellery, in 
which case . . . But already her next words disillusioned 
me even on that point. 

“No, Monsieur,” she said; “what would be the use? 
Through one of the usual perverse tricks of fate, M. le 
Comte would be sure to inquire after the very piece of 
jewellery of which I had so disposed, and moreover ...” 

“Moreover — yes, Mme. la Comtesse ?” 

“Moreover, my husband is right,” she concluded de- 
cisively. “If I give in to those thieves to-day and pay 
them five thousand francs, they would only set to work 
to steal Carissimo again and demand ten thousand francs 
from me another time.” 

I was silent. What could I say? Her argument was 
indeed unanswerable. 

“No, my good M. Ratichon,” she said very determinedly 
after a while. “I have quite decided that you must con- 
found those thieves. They have given me three days’ 
grace, as you see in their abominable letter. If after 
three days the money is not forthcoming, and if in the 
meanwhile I dare to set a trap for them or in any way 


CARISSIMO 


125 


communicate with the police, my darling Carissimo will 
be killed and my heart be broken.” 

“Madame la Comtesse,” I entreated, for of a truth I 
could not bear to see her cry again. 

“You must bring Carissimo back to me, M. Ratichon,” 
she continued peremptorily, “before those awful three days 
have elapsed.” 

“I swear that I will,” I rejoined solemnly; but I must 
admit that I did it entirely on the spur of the moment, 
for of a truth I saw no prospect whatever of being able 
to accomplish what she desired. 

“Without my paying a single louis to those execrable 
thieves,” the exquisite creature went on peremotorily. 

“It shall be done, Madame la Comtesse.” 

“And let me tell you,” she now added, with the sweet- 
est and archest of smiles, “that if you succeed in this, 
M. le Comte de Nole de St. Pris will gladly pay you the 
five thousand francs which he refuses to give to those 
miscreants.” 

Five thousand francs ! A mist swam before my eyes. 

“Mais, Madame la Comtesse . . .” I stammered. 

“Oh!” she added, with an adorable uptilting of her 
little chin, “I am not promising what I cannot fulfil. M, 
le Comte de Nole only said this morning, apropos of dog 
thieves, that he would gladly give ten thousand francs 
to anyone who succeeded in ridding society of such pests.” 

I could have knelt down on the hard floor, Sir, and . * * 

“Well then, Madame,” was my ready rejoinder, “why 
not ten thousand francs to me?” 

She bit her coral lips . . . but she also smiled.. I 


126 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


could see that my personality and my manners had greatly 
impressed her. 

“I will only be responsible for the first five thousand,” 
she said lightly. “But, for the rest, I can confidently 
iassure you that you will not find a miser in M. le Comte 
de Nole de St. Pris.” 

I could have knelt down on the hard floor, Sir, and 
kissed her exquisitely shod feet. Five thousand francs 
certain ! Perhaps ten ! A fortune, Sir, in those days ! One 
that would keep me in comfort — nay, affluence, until some- 
thing else turned up. I was swimming in the empyrean 
and only came rudely to earth when I recollected that I 
should have to give Theodore something for his share 
of the business. Ah ! fortunately that for the moment he 
was comfortably out of the way! Thoughts that per- 
haps he had been murdered after all once more coursed 
through my brain : not unpleasantly, I’ll admit. I would 
not have raised a finger to hurt the fellow, even though he 
had treated me with the basest ingratitude and treachery ; 
but if someone else took the trouble to remove him, why 
indeed should I quarrel with fate ? 

Back I came swiftly to the happy present. The lovely 
creature was showing me a beautifully painted miniature 
of Carissimo, a King Charles spaniel of no common 
type. This she suggested that I should keep by me for 
the present for purposes of identification. After this we 
had to go into the details of the circumstances under which 
she had lost her pet. She had been for a walk with him, 
it seems, along the Quai Voltaire, and was returning 
home by the side of the river, when suddenly a number 


CARISSIMO 


127 


of workmen in blouses and peaked caps came trooping 
out of a side street and obstructed her progress. She 
had Carissimo on the lead, and she at once admitted to 
me that at first she never thought of connecting this 
pushing and jostling rabble with any possible theft. 
She held her ground for awhile, facing the crowd : for a 
few moments she was right in the midst of it, and just 
then she felt the dog straining at the lead. She turned 
round at once with the intention of picking him up, when 
to her horror she saw that there was only a bundle of 
something weighty at the end of the lead, and that the 
dog had disappeared. 

The whole incident occurred, the lovely creature de- 
clared, within the space of thirty seconds; the next in- 
stant the crowd had scattered in several directions, the men 
running and laughing as they went. Mme. la Comtesse 
was left standing alone on the quay. Not a passer-by 
in sight, and the only gendarme visible, a long way down 
the Quai, had his back turned toward her. Nevertheless 
she ran and hied him, and presently he turned 
and, realizing that something was amiss, he too ran 
to meet her. He listened to her story, swore lustily, 
but shrugged his shoulders in token that the tale did not 
surprise him and that but little could be done. Never- 
theless he at once summoned those of his colleagues 
who were on duty in the neighbourhood, and one of them 
went off immediately to notify the theft at the nearest 
commissariat of police. After which they all proceeded to 
a comprehensive scouring of the many tortuous side 


128 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


streets of the quartier; but, needless to say, there was 
no sign of Carissimo or of his abductors. 

That night my lovely client went home distracted. 

The following evening, when, broken-hearted, she 
wandered down the quays living over again the agonizing 
moments during which she lost her pet, a workman in a 
blue blouse, with a peaked cap pulled well over his eyes, 
lurched up against her and thrust into her hand the mis- 
sive which she had just shown me. He then disappeared 
into the night, and she had only the vaguest possible 
recollection of his appearance. 

That, Sir, was the substance of the story which the 
lovely creature told me in a voice oft choked with tears. I 
questioned her very closely and in my most impressive 
professional manner as to the identity of any one man 
among the crowd who might have attracted her attention, 
but all that she could tell me was that she had a vague 
impression of a wizened hunchback with evil face, shaggy 
red beard and hair, and a black patch covering the left 
eye., 

§ 2 

Not much data to go on, you will, I think, admit, and I 
can assure you, Sir, that had I not possessed that un- 
bounded belief in myself which is the true hall-mark of 
genius, I would at the outset have felt profoundly dis- 
couraged. 

As it was, I found just the right words of consolation 
and of hope wherewith to bow my brilliant client out of 
my humble apartments, and then to settle down to deep 


CARISSIMO 


129 


and considered meditation. Nothing, Sir, is so conducive 
to thought as a long, brisk walk through the crowded 
streets of Paris. So I brushed my coat, put on my hat at 
a becoming angle, and started on my way. 

I walked as far as Suresnes, and I thought. After 
that, feeling fatigued, I sat on the terrace of the Cafe 
Bourbon, overlooking the river. There I sipped my coffee 
and thought. I walked back into Paris in the evening, 
and still thought, and thought, and thought. After that 
I had some dinner, washed down by an agreeable bottle of 
wine — did I mention that the lovely creature had given 
me a hundred francs on account? — then I went for a 
stroll along the Quai Voltaire, and I may safely say 
that there is not a single side and tortuous street in its 
vicinity that I did not explore from end to end during 
the course of that never to be forgotten evening. 

But still my mind remained in a chaotic condition. I 
had not succeeded in forming any plan. What a quan- 
dary, Sir ! Oh ! what a quandary ! Here was I, Hector 
Ratichon, the confidant of kings, the right hand of two 
emperors, set to the task of stealing a dog — for that is 
what I should have to do — from an unscrupulous gang of 
thieves whose identity, abode and methods were alike un- 
known to me. Truly, Sir, you will own that this was a 
herculean task. 

Vaguely my thoughts reverted to Theodore. He 
might have been of good counsel, for he knew more about 
thieves than I did, but the ungrateful wretch was out of 
the way on the one occasion when he might have been of 
use to me who had done so much for him. Indeed, my 


130 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


reason told me that I need not trouble my head about 
Theodore. He had vanished; that he would come back 
presently was, of course, an indubitable fact; people like 
Theodore never vanish completely. He would come 
back and demand I know not what, his share, perhaps, in 
a business which was so promising even if it was still 
so vague. 

Five thousand francs ! A round sum ! If I gave Theo- 
dore five hundred the sum would at once appear meagre, 
unimportant. Four thousand five hundred francs! — it 
did not even sound well to my mind. 

So I took care that Theodore vanished from my 
mental vision as completely as he had done for the last 
two days from my ken, and as there was nothing more 
that could be done that evening, I turned my weary foot- 
steps toward my lodgings at Passy. 

All that night, Sir, I lay wakeful and tossing in my 
bed, alternately fuming and rejecting plans for the attain- 
ment of that golden goal — the recovery of Mme. de 
Note’s pet dog. And the whole of the next day I spent 
in vain quest. I visited every haunt of ill-fame known 
to me within the city. I walked about with a pistol in 
my belt, a hunk of bread and cheese in my pocket, and 
slowly growing despair in my heart. 

In the evening Mme. la Comtesse de Nole called for 
news of Carissimo, and I could give her none. She cried, 
Sir, and implored, and her tears and entreaties got on to 
my nerves until I felt ready to fall into hysterics. One 
more day and all my chances of a bright and wealthy 
future would have vanished. Unless the money was 


CARISSIMO 


131 


forthcoming on the morrow, the dog would be destroyed, 
and with him my every hope of that five thousand francs. 
And though she still irradiated charm and luxury from 
her entire lovely person, I begged her not to come to the 
office again, and promised that as soon as I had any news 
to impart I would at once present myself at her house in 
the Faubourg St. Germain. 

That night I never slept one wink. Think of it, Sir! 
The next few hours were destined to see me either a pros- 
perous man for many days to come, or a miserable, help- 
less, disappointed wretch. At eight o’clock I was at my 
office. Still no news of Theodore. I could now no 
longer dismiss him from my mind. Something had hap- 
pened to him, I could have no doubt. This anxiety, added 
to the other more serious one, drove me to a state bor- 
dering on frenzy. I hardly knew what I was doing. I 
wandered all day up and down the Quai Voltaire, and 
the Quai des Grands Augustins, and in and around the 
tortuous streets till I was dog-tired, distracted, half 
crazy. 

I went to the Morgue, thinking to find there Theo- 
dore’s dead body, and found myself vaguely looking for 
the mutilated corpse of Carissimo. Indeed, after a while 
Theodore and Carissimo became so inextricably mixed 
up in my mind that I could not have told you if I 
was seeking for the one or for the other and if Mme. la 
Comtesse de Nole was now waiting to clasp her pet dog or 
my man-of-all-work to her exquisite bosom. 

She in the meanwhile had received a second, yet more 
peremptory, missive through the same channel as the 


132 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


previous one. A grimy deformed man, with ginger- 
coloured hair, and wearing a black patch over one eye, had 
been seen by one of the servants lolling down the street 
where Madame lived, and subsequently the concierge dis- 
covered that an exceedingly dirty scrap of paper had 
been thrust under the door of his lodge. The writer of 
the epistle demanded that Mme. la Comtesse should stand 
in person at six o’clock that same evening at the corner 
of the Rue Guenegaud, behind the Institut de France. 
Two men, each wearing a blue blouse and peaked cap, 
would meet her there. She must hand over the money to 
one of them, whilst the other would have Carissimo in 
his arms. The missive closed with the usual threats that 
if the police were mixed up in the affair, or the money 
not forthcoming, Carissimo would be destroyed. 

Six o’clock was the hour fixed by these abominable 
thieves for the final doom of Carissimo. It was now close 
on five. In a little more than an hour my last hope of five 
or ten thousand francs and a smile of gratitude from a 
pair of lovely lips would have gone, never again to return. 
A great access of righteous rage seized upon me. I deter- 
mined that those miserable thieves, whoever they were, 
should suffer for the disappointment which I was now 
enduring. If I was to lose five thousand francs, they 
at least should not be left free to pursue their evil ways. 
I would communicate with the police; the police should 
meet the miscreants at the corner of the Rue Guenegaud. 
Carissimo would die ; his lovely mistress would be broken- 
hearted. I would be left to mourn yet another illusion of 


CARISSIMO 


133 


a possible fortune, but they would suffer in gaol or in New 
Caledonia the consequences of all their misdeeds. 

Fortified by this resolution, I turned my weary foot- 
steps in the direction of the gendarmerie where I intended 
to lodge my denunciation of those abominable thieves and 
blackmailers. The night was dark, the streets ill-lighted, 
the air bitterly cold. A thin drizzle, half rain, half 
snow, was descending, chilling me to the bone. 

I was walking rapidly along the river bank with my 
coat collar pulled up to my ears, and still instinctively 
peering up every narrow street which debouches on the 
quay. Then suddenly I spied Theodore. He was com- 
ing down the Rue Beaune, slouching along with head bent 
in his usual way. He appeared to be carrying something, 
not exactly heavy, but cumbersome, under his left arm. 
Within the next few minutes he would have been face to 
face with me, for I had come to a halt at the angle 
of the street, determined to have it out with the rascal 
then and there in spite of the cold and in spite of my 
anxiety about Carissimo. 

All of a sudden he raised his head and saw me, and in 
a second he turned on his heel and began to run up the 
street in the direction whence he had come. At once I 
gave chase. I ran after him — and then, Sir, he came 
for a second within the circle of light projected by a 
street lanthorn. But in that one second I had seen that 
which turned my frozen blood into liquid lava — a tail, 
Sir! — a dog’s tail, fluffy and curly, projecting from be- 
neath that recreant’s left arm. 

A dog, Sir! a dog! Carissimo! the darling of Mme. 


134 * 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


la Comtesse de Nole’s heart! Carissimo, the recovery of 
whom would mean five thousand francs into my pocket! 
Carissimo! I knew it! For me there existed but one 
dog in all the world ; one dog and one spawn of the devil, 
one arch-traitor, one limb of Satan ! Theodore ! 

How he had come by Carissimo I had not time to con- 
conjecture. I called to him. I called his accursed name, 
using appellations which fell far short of those which he 
deserved. But the louder I called the faster he ran, and I, 
breathless, panting, ran after him, determined to run 
him to earth, fearful lest I should lose him in the dark- 
ness of the night. All down the Rue Beaune we ran, and 
already I could hear behind me the heavy and more 
leisured tramp of a couple of gendarmes who in their 
turn had started to give chase. 

I tell you, Sir, the sound lent wings to my feet. A 
chance — a last chance — was being offered me by a benevo- 
lent Fate to earn that five thousand francs, the keystone to 
my future fortune. If I had the strength to seize and 
hold Theodore until the gendarmes came up, and before he 
had time to do away with the dog, the five thousand francs 
could still be mine. 

So I ran, Sir, as I had never run before ; the beads of 
perspiration poured down from my forehead; the breath 
came stertorous and hot from my heaving breast. 

Then suddenly Theodore disappeared! 

Disappeared, Sir, as if the earth had swallowed him 
up! A second ago I had seen him dimly, yet distinctly 
through the veil of snow and rain ahead of me, running 
with that unmistakable shuffling gait of his, hugging the 


CARISSIMO 


135 


dog closely under his arm. I had seen him — another 
effort and I might have touched him ! — now the long and 
deserted street lay dark and mysterious before me, and 
behind me I could hear the measured tramp of the gen- 
darmes and their peremptory call of “Halt, in the name of 
the King!” 

But not in vain, Sir, am I called Hector Ratichon ; not 
in vain have kings and emperors reposed confidence in 
my valour and my presence of mind. In less time than it 
takes to relate I had already marked with my eye the 
very spot — down the street — where I had last seen Theo- 
dore. I hurried forward and saw at once that my surmise 
had been correct. At that very sppt, Sir, there was a low 
doorway which gave on a dark and dank passage. The 
door itself was open. I did not hesitate. My life stood 
in the balance but I did not falter. I might be affronting 
within the next second or two a gang of desperate thieves, 
but I did not quake. 

I turned into that doorway, Sir ; the next moment I felt 
a stunning blow between my eyes. I just remember call- 
ing out with all the strength of my lungs: “Police! 
Gendarmes ! A moi !” Then nothing more. 

§ 3 

I woke with the consciousness of violent wordy warfare 
carried on around me. I was lying on the ground, and 
the first things I saw were three or four pairs of feet 
standing close together. Gradually out of the confused 
hubbub a few sentences struck my reawakened senses. 


136 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


“The man is drunk.” 

“I won't have him inside the house.” 

“I tell you this is a respectable house.” This from a 
shrill feminine voice. “We’ve never had the law inside 
our doors before.” 

By this time I had succeeded in raising myself on my 
elbow, and, by the dim light of a hanging lamp some- 
where down the passage, I was pretty well able to take 
stock of my surroundings. 

The half-dozen bedroom candlesticks on a table up 
against the wall, the row of keys hanging on hooks fixed 
to a board above, the glass partition with the words 
“Concierge” and “Reception” painted across it, all told me 
that this was one of those small, mostly squalid and 
disreputable lodging houses or hotels in which this quarter 
of Paris still abounds. 

The two gendarmes who had been running after me 
were arguing the matter of my presence here with the 
proprietor of the place and with the concierge. 

I struggled to my feet. Whereupon for the space of 
a solid two minutes I had to bear as calmly as I could 
the abuse and vituperation which the feminine proprietor 
of this “respectable house” chose to hurl at my un- 
fortunate head. After which I obtained a hearing from 
the bewildered minions of the law. To them I gave as 
brief and succinct a narrative as I could of the events of 
the past three days. The theft of Carissimo — the dis- 
appearance of Theodore — my meeting him a while ago, 
with the dog under his arm — his second disappearance, 
this time Vjithin the doorway of this “respectable abode,” 


CARISSIMO 18? 

and finally the blow which alone had prevented me from 
running the abominable thief to earth. 

The gendarmes at first were incredulous. I could see 
that they were still under the belief that my excitement 
was due to over-indulgence in alcoholic liquor, whilst 
Madame the proprietress called me an abominable liar 
for daring to suggest that she harboured thieves within 
her doors. Then suddenly, as if in vindication of my 
character, there came from a floor above the sound of a 
loud, shrill bark. 

“Carissimo !” I cried triumphantly. Then I added 
in a rapid whisper, “Mme. la Comtesse de Nole is rich. 
She spoke of a big reward for the recovery of her 
pet. ,, 

These happy words had the effect of stimulating the 
zeal of the gendarmes. Madame the proprietress grew 
somewhat confused and incoherent, and finally blurted it 
out that one of her lodgers — a highly respectable gentle- 
man — did keep a dog, but that there was no crime in that 
surely. 

“One of your lodgers?” queried the representative of 
the law. “When did he come?” 

“About three days ago,” she replied sullenly. 

“What room does he occupy?” 

“Number twenty-five on the third floor.” 

“He came with his dog?” I interposed quickly, “a 
spaniel ?” 

“Yes.” 

“And your lodger, is he an ugly, slouchy creature — 
with hooked nose, bleary eyes and shaggy yellow hair?” 


188 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


But to this she vouchsafed no reply. 

Already the matter had passed out of my hands. One 
of the gendarmes prepared to go upstairs and bade me 
follow him, whilst he ordered his comrade to remain 
below and on no account to allow anyone to enter or 
leave the house. The proprietress and concierge were 
warned that if they interfered with the due execution of 
the law they would be severely dealt with; after which 
we went upstairs. 

For a while, as we ascended, we could hear the dog 
barking furiously, then, presently, just as we reached the 
upper landing, we heard a loud curse, a scramble, and 
then a piteous whine quickly smothered. 

My very heart stood still. The next moment, how- 
ever, the gendarme had kicked open the door of No. 25, 
and I followed him into the room. The place looked 
dirty and squalid in the extreme — just the sort of place 
I should have expected Theodore to haunt. It was al- 
most bare save for a table in the centre, a couple of 
rickety chairs, a broken-down bedstead and an iron stove 
in the corner. On the table a tallow candle was splutter- 
ing and throwing a very feeble circle of light around. 

At first glance I thought that the room was empty, 
then suddenly I heard another violent expletive and be- 
came aware of a man sitting close beside the iron stove. 
He turned to stare at us as we entered, but to my sur- 
prise it was not Theodore’s ugly face which confronted 
us. The man sitting there alone in the room where I had 
expected to see Theodore and Carissimo had a shaggy 
beard of an undoubted ginger hue. He had on a blue 


CARISSIMO 




blouse and a peaked cap; beneath his cap his lank hair 
protruded more decided in colour even than his beard. 
His head was sunk between his shoulders, and right 
across his face, from the left eyebrow over the cheek 
and as far as his ear, he had a hideous crimson scar, 
which told up vividly against the ghastly pallor of his 
face. 

But there was no sign of Theodore! 

At first my friend the gendarme was quite urbane. 
He asked very politely to see Monsieur’s pet dog. Mon- 
sieur denied all knowledge of a dog, which denial only 
tended to establish his own guilt and the veracity of mine 
own narrative. The gendarme thereupon became more 
peremptory and the man promptly lost his temper. 

I, in the meanwhile, was glancing round the room and 
soon spied a wall cupboard which had obviously been 
deliberately screened by the bedstead. While my com- 
panion was bringing the whole majesty of the law to 
bear upon the miscreant’s denegations I calmly dragged 
the bedstead aside and opened the cupboard door. 

An ejaculation from my quivering throat brought the 
gendarme to my side. Crouching in the dark recess of 
the wall cupboard was Carissimo — not dead, thank good- 
ness ! but literally shaking with terror. I pulled him out 
as gently as I could, for he was so frightened that he 
growled and snapped viciously at me. I handed him to 
the gendarme, for by the side of Carissimo I had seen 
something which literally froze my blood within my veins. 
It was Theodore’s hat and coat, which he had been wear- 
ing when I chased him to this house of mystery and of 


140 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


ill-fame, and wrapped together with it was a rag all 
smeared with blood, whilst the same hideous stains were 
now distinctly visible on the door of the cupboard itself. 

I turned to the gendarme, who at once confronted the 
abominable malefactor with the obvious proofs of a 
horrible crime. But the depraved wretch stood by, Sir, 
perfectly calm and with a cynicism in his whole bearing 
which I had never before seen equalled ! 

“I know nothing about that coat,” he asserted with a 
shrug of the shoulders, “nor about the dog.” 

The gendarme by this time was purple with fury. 

“Not know anything about the dog?” he exclaimed in 
a voice choked with righteous indignation. “Why, he 
... he barked !” 

But this indisputable fact in no way disconcerted the 
miscreant. 

“I heard a dog yapping,” he said with consummate 
impudence, “but I thought he was in the next room. No 
wonder,” he added coolly, “since he was in a wall cup- 
board.” 

“A wall cupboard,” the gendarme rejoined triumphant- 
ly, “situated in the very room which you occupy at this 
moment.” 

“That is a mistake, my friend,” the cynical wretch re- 
torted, undaunted. “I do not occupy this room. I do not 
lodge in this hotel at all.” 

“Then how came you to be here ?” 

“I came on a visit to a friend who happened to be out 
when I arrived. I found a pleasant fire here, and I sat 
down to warm myself. Your noisy and unwarranted 


CARISSIMO 


141 


irruption into this room has so bewildered me that I no 
longer know whether I am standing on my head or on 
my heels.” 

“ We’ll show you soon enough what you are standing 
on, my fine fellow,” the gendarme riposted with breezy 
cheerfulness. “Allons !” 

I must say that the pampered minion of the law arose 
splendidly to the occasion. He seized the miscreant by 
the arm and took him downstairs, there to confront him 
with the proprietress of the establishment, while I — with 
marvellous presence of mind — took possession of Caris- 
simo and hid him as best I could beneath my coat. 

In the hall below a surprise and a disappointment were 
in store for me. I had reached the bottom of the stairs 
when the shrill feminine accents of Mme. the proprietress 
struck unpleasantly on my ear. 

“No! no! I tell you!” she was saying. “This man is 
not my lodger. He never came here with a dog. There,” 
she added volubly, and pointing an unwashed finger at 
Carissimo who was struggling and growling in my arms, 
“there is the dog. A gentleman brought him with him 
last Wednesday, when he inquired if he could have a 
room here for a few nights. Number twenty-five hap- 
pened to be vacant, and I have no objection to dogs. I 
let the gentleman have the room, and he paid me twenty 
sous in advance when he took possession and told me he 
would keep the room three nights.” 

“The gentleman? What gentleman?” the gendarme 
queried, rather inanely I thought. 

“My lodger,” the woman replied. “He is out for the 


142 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


moment, but he will be back presently I make no doubt. 
The dog is his. . . .” 

“What is he like?” the minion of the law queried 
abruptly. 

“Who? the dog?” she retorted impudently. 

“No, no! Your lodger.” 

Once more the unwashed finger went up and pointed 
straight at me. 

“He described him well enough just now; thin and 
slouchy in his ways. He has lank, yellow hair, a nose 
perpetually crimson — with the cold no doubt — and pale, 
watery eyes. . . .” 

“Theodore,” I exclaimed mentally. 

Bewildered, the gendarme pointed to his prisoner. 

“But this man . . . ?” he queried. 

“Why,” the proprietress replied. “I have seen Mon- 
sieur twice, or was it three times ? He would visit num- 
ber twenty-five now and then.” 

I will not weary you with further accounts of the 
close examination to which the representative of the law 
subjected the personnel of the squalid hotel. The con- 
cierge and the man of all work did indeed confirm what 
the proprietress said, and whilst my friend the gendarme 
— puzzled and floundering — was scratching his head in 
complete bewilderment, I thought that the opportunity 
had come for me to slip quietly out by the still open door 
and make my way as fast as I could to the sumptuous 
abode in the Faubourg St. Germain, where the gratitude 
of Mme. de Nole, together with five thousand francs, 
were even now awaiting me. 


CARISSIMO 


143 


After Madame the proprietress had identified Caris- 
simo, I had once more carefully concealed him under my 
coat. I was ready to seize my opportunity, after which I 
would be free to deal with the matter of Theodore’s amaz- 
ing disappearance. Unfortunately just at this moment 
the little brute gave a yap, and the minion of the law at 
once interposed and took possessiox. of him. 

“The dog belongs to the police now, Sir,” he said 
sternly. 

The fatuous jobbernowl wanted his share of the re- 
ward, you see. 

§ 4 

Having been forced thus to give up Carissimo, and 
with him all my hopes of a really substantial fortune, I 
was determined to make the red-polled miscreant suffer 
for my disappointment, and the minions of the law sweat 
in the exercise of their duty. 

I demanded Theodore! My friend, my comrade, my 
right hand ! I had seen him not ten minutes ago, carry- 
ing in his arms this very dog, whom I had subsequently 
found inside a wall cupboard beside a blood-stained coat. 
Where was Theodore? Pointing an avenging finger at 
the red-headed reprobate, I boldly accused him of having 
murdered my friend with a view to robbing him of the 
reward offered for the recovery of the dog. 

This brought a new train of thought into the wooden 
pates of the gendarmes. A quartet of them had by this 
time assembled within the respectable precincts of the 
Hotel des Cadets. One of them — senior to the others — 


144 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


at once dispatched a younger comrade to the nearest com- 
missary of police for advice and assistance. 

Then he ordered us all into the room pompously labelled 
“Reception,” and there proceeded once more to interro- 
gate us all, making copious notes in his leather-bound 
book all the time, whilst I, moaning and lamenting the 
loss of my faithful friend and man of all work, loudly 
demanded the punishment of his assassin. 

Theodore’s coat, his hat, the blood-stained rag, had all 
been brought down from No. 25 and laid out upon the 
table ready for the inspection of M. the Commissary of 
Police. 

That gentleman arrived with two private agents, armed 
with full powers and wrapped in the magnificent imper- 
turbability of the law. The gendarme had already put 
him au fait of the events, and as soon as he was seated 
behind the table upon which reposed the “pieces de con- 
viction,” he in his turn proceeded to interrogate the 
ginger-pated miscreant. 

But strive how he might, M. the Commissary elicited 
no further information from him than that which we all 
already possessed. The man gave his name as Aristide 
Nicolet. He had no fixed abode. He had come to visit 
his friend who lodged in No. 25 in the Hotel des Cadets. 
Not finding him at home he had sat by the fire and had 
waited for him. He knew absolutely nothing of the dog 
and absolutely nothing of the whereabouts of Theodore. 

“We’ll soon see about that!” asserted M. the Com- 
missary. 

He ordered a perquisition of every room and every 


CARISSIMO 


145 


corner of the hotel, Madame the proprietress loudly la- 
menting that she and her respectable house would hence- 
forth be disgraced for ever. But the thieves — whoever 
they were — were clever. Not a trace of any illicit practice 
was found on the premises — and not a trace of Theodore. 

Had he indeed been murdered ? The thought now had 
taken root in my mind. For the moment I had even 
forgotten Carissimo and my vanished five thousand 
francs. 

Well, Sir! Aristide Nicolet was marched off to the 
depot — still protesting his innocence. The next day he 
was confronted with Mme. la Comtesse de Nole, who 
could not say more than that he might have formed part 
of the gang who had jostled her on the Quai Voltaire, 
whilst the servant who had taken the missive from him 
failed to recognize him. 

Carissimo was restored to the arms of his loving mis- 
tress, but the reward for his recovery had to be shared 
between the police and myself : three thousand francs 
going to the police who apprehended the thief, and two 
thousand to me who had put them on the track. 

It was not a fortune, Sir, but I had to be satisfied. But 
in the meanwhile the disappearance of Theodore had re- 
mained an unfathomable mystery. No amount of ques- 
tionings and cross-questionings, no amount of confronta- 
tions and perquisitions, had brought any new matter to 
light. Aristide Nicolet persisted in his statements, as did 
the proprietress and the concierge of the Hotel des Cadets 
in theirs. Theodore had undoubtedly occupied room No. 
25 in the hotel during the three days while I was racking 


146 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


my brain as to what had become of him. I equally 
undoubtedly saw him for a few moments running up the 
Rue Beaune with Carissimo’s tail projecting beneath his 
coat. Then he entered the open doorway of the hotel, 
and henceforth his whereabouts remained a baffling mys- 
tery. 

Beyond his coat and hat, the stained rag and the dog 
himself, there was not the faintest indication of what be- 
came of him after that. The concierge vowed that he 
did not enter the hotel — Aristide Nicolet vowed that he 
did not enter No. 25. But then the dog was in the cup- 
board, and so were the hat and coat ; and even the police 
were bound to admit that in the short space of time be- 
tween my last glimpse of Theodore and the gendarme’s 
entry into room 25 it would be impossible for the most 
experienced criminal on earth to murder a man, conceal 
every trace of the crime, and so to dispose of the body 
as to baffle the most minute inquiry and the most ex- 
haustive search. 

Sometimes when I thought the whole matter out I felt 
that I was growing crazy. 


§ 5 

Thus about a week or ten days went by and I had just 
come reluctantly to the conclusion that there must be 
some truth in the old mediaeval legends which tell us 
that the devil runs away with his elect from time to time, 
when I received a summons from M. the Commissary of 
Police to present myself at his bureau. 

He was pleasant and urbane as usual, but to my anxious 


CARISSIMO 


147 


query after Theodore he only gave me the old reply : “No 
trace of him can be found.” 

Then he added : “We must therefore take it for granted, 
my good M. Ratichon, that your man of all work is 
— of his own free will — keeping out of the way. The 
murder theory is untenable; we have had to abandon it. 
The total disappearance of the body is an unanswerable 
argument against it. Would you care to offer a reward 
for information leading to the recovery of your missing 
friend?” 

I hesitated. I certainly was not prepared to pay anyone 
for finding Theodore. 

“Think it over, my good M. Ratichon,” rejoined M. 
le Commissaire pleasantly. “But in the meanwhile I 
must tell you that we have decided to set Aristide Nicolet 
free. There is not a particle of evidence against him 
either in the matter of the dog or of that of your friend. 
Mme. de Nole’s servants cannot swear to his identity, 
whilst you have sworn that you last saw the dog in your 
man’s arms. That being so, I feel that we have no right 
to detain an innocent man.” 

Well, Sir, what could I say? I knew well enough that 
there was not a tittle of solid evidence against the man 
Nicolet, nor had I the power to move the police of His 
Majesty the King from their decision. In my heart of 
hearts I had the firm conviction that the ginger-polled 
ruffian knew all about Carissimo and all about the present 
whereabouts of that rascal Theodore. But what could I 
say, Sir? What could I do? 


148 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


I went home that night to my lodgings at Passy more 
perplexed than ever I had been in my life before. 

The next morning I arrived at my office soon after 
nine. The problem had presented itself to me during the 
night of finding a new man of all work who would serve 
me on the same terms as that ungrateful wretch Theo- 
dore. 

I mounted the stairs with a heavy step and opened 
the outer door of my apartment with my private key; 
and then, Sir, I assure you that for one brief moment 
I felt that my knees were giving way under me and that 
I should presently measure my full length on the floor. 

There, sitting at the table in my private room, was 
Theodore. He had donned one of the many suits of 
clothes which I always kept at the office for purposes of 
my business, and he was calmly consuming a luscious 
sausage which was to have been part of my dinner to- 
day, and finishing a half -bottle of my best Bordeaux. 

He appeared wholly unconscious of his enormities, and 
when I taxed him with his villainies and plied him with 
peremptory questions he met me with a dogged silence 
and a sulky attitude which I have never seen equalled in 
all my life. He flatly denied that he had ever walked the 
streets of Paris with a dog under his arm, or that I had 
ever chased him up the Rue Beaune. He denied ever 
having lodged in the Hotel des Cadets, or been acquainted 
with its proprietress, or with a red-polled, hunchback 
miscreant named Aristide Nicolet. He denied that the 
coat and hat found in room No. 25 were his ; in fact, he 


CARISSIMO 149 

denied everything, and with an impudence, Sir, which 
was past belief. 

But he put the crown to his insolence when he finally 
demanded two hundred francs from me: his share in 
the sum paid to me by Mme. de Nole for the recovery 
of her dog. He demanded this, Sir, in the name of 
justice and of equity, and even brandished our partner- 
ship contract in my face. 

I was so irate at his audacity, so disgusted that pres- 
ently I felt that I could not bear the sight of him any 
longer. I turned my back on him and walked out of 
my own private room, leaving him there still munching 
my sausage and drinking my Bordeaux. 

I was going through the antechamber with a view to 
going out into the street for a little fresh air when some- 
thing in the aspect of the chair-bedstead on which that 
abominable brute Theodore had apparently spent the 
night attracted my attention. I turned over one of the 
cushions, and with a cry of rage which I took no pains 
to suppress I seized upon what I found lying beneath: 
a blue linen blouse, Sir, a peaked cap, a ginger-coloured 
wig and beard ! 

The villain ! The abominable mountebank ! The 
wretch! The ... I was wellnigh choking with wrath. 

With the damning pieces of conviction in my hand, I 
rushed back into the inner room. Already my cry of 
indignation had aroused the vampire from his orgy. 
He stood before me sheepish, grinning, and taunted me, 
Sir — taunted me for my blindness in not recognizing him 
under the disguise of the so-called Aristide Nicolet. 


150 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


It was a disguise which he had kept by him in case of 
an emergency when first he decided to start business as a 
dog thief. Carissimo had been his first serious venture 
and but for my interference it would have been a wholly 
successful one. He had worked the whole thing out with 
marvellous cleverness, being greatly assisted by Madame 
Sand, the proprietress of the Hotel des Cadets, who was 
a friend of his mother’s. The lady, it seems, carried on a 
lucrative business of the same sort herself, and she un- 
dertook to furnish him with the necessary confederates 
for the carrying out of his plan. The proceeds of the 
affair were to be shared equally between himself and 
Madame; the confederates, who helped to jostle Mme. 
de Nole whilst her dog was being stolen, were to receive 
five francs each for their trouble. 

When he met me at the corner of the Rue Beaune he 
was on his way to the Rue Guenegaud, hoping to ex- 
change Carissimo for five thousand francs. When he 
met me, however, he felt that the best thing to do for the 
moment was to seek safety in flight. He had only just 
time to run back to the hotel to warn Mme. Sand of my 
approach and beg her to detain me at any cost. Then 
he flew up the stairs, changed into his disguise, Caris- 
simo barking all the time furiously. Whilst he was try- 
ing to pacify the dog, the latter bit him severely in the 
arm, drawing a good deal of blood — the crimson scar 
across his face was a last happy inspiration which put 
the finishing touch to his disguise and to the hoodwink- 
ing of the police and of me. He had only just time to 
staunch the blood from his arm and to thrust his own 


CARISSIMO 


151 


clothes and Carissimo into the wall cupboard when the 
gendarme and I burst in upon him. 

I could only gasp. For one brief moment the thought 
rushed through my mind that I would denounce him to 
the police for . . . for V . . 

But that was just the trouble. Of what could I accuse 
him? Of murdering himself or of stealing Mme. de 
Nole’s dog? The commissary would hardly listen to 
such a tale . . . and it would make me seem ridicu- 
lous. . . . 

So I gave Theodore the soundest thrashing he ever 
had in his life, and fifty francs to keep his mouth shut. 

But did I not tell you that he was a monster of in- 
gratitude ? 


CHAPTER V 


THE TOYS 


§ I 


OU are right, Sir, I very seldom speak of my hal- 



I cyon days — those days when the greatest monarch 
the world has ever known honoured me with his intimacy 
and confidence. I had my office in the Rue St. Roch then, 
at the top of a house just by the church, and not a stone’s 
throw from the palace, and I can tell you, Sir, that in 
those days ministers of state, foreign ambassadors, aye! 
and members of His Majesty’s household, were up and 
down my staircase at all hours of the day. I had not yet 
met Theodore then, and fate was wont to smile on me. 

As for M. le Due d’Otrante, Minister of Police, he 
would send to me or for me whenever an intricate case 
required special acumen, resourcefulness and secrecy. 
Thus in the matter of the English files — have I told you 
of it before? No? Well, then, you shall hear. 

Those were the days, Sir, when the Emperor’s Berlin 
Decrees were going to sweep the world clear of English 
commerce and of English enterprise. It was not a case 
of paying heavy duty on English goods, or a still heavier 
fine if you smuggled; it was total prohibition, and hang- 
ing if you were caught bringing so much as a metre of 


THE TOYS 


153 


Bradford cloth or half a dozen Sheffield files into the 
country. But you know how it is, Sir: the more strict 
the law the more ready are certain lawless human crea- 
tures to break it. Never was smuggling so rife as it was 
in those days — I am speaking now of 1810 or n — never 
was it so daring or smugglers so reckless. 

M. le Due d’Otrante had his hands full, I can tell you. 
It had become a matter for the secret police; the coast- 
guard or customs officials were no longer able to deal 
with it. 

Then one day Hypolite Leroux came to see me. I 
knew the man well — a keen sleuthhound if ever there 
was one — and well did he deserve his name, for he was as 
red as a fox. 

“Ratichon,” he said to me, without preamble, as soon 
as he had seated himself opposite to me, and I had placed 
half a bottle of good Bordeaux and a couple of glasses on 
the table. “I want your help in the matter of these 
English files. We have done all that we can in our de- 
partment. M. le Due has doubled the customs personnel 
on the Swiss frontier, the coastguard is both keen and 
efficient, and yet we know that at the present moment 
there are thousands of English files used in this country, 
even inside His Majesty’s own armament works. M. le 
Due d’Otrante is determined to put an end to the scandal. 
He has offered a big reward for information which will 
lead to the conviction of one or more of the chief culprits, 
and I am determined to get that reward — with your help, 
if you will give it.” 

“What is the reward?” I asked simply. 


154 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


“Five thousand francs,” he replied. “Your knowledge 
of English and Italian is what caused me to offer you 
a share in this splendid enterprise ” 

“It’s no good lying to me, Leroux," I broke in quietly, 
“if we are going to work amicably together.” 

He swore. 

“The reward is ten thousand francs.” I made the 
shot at a venture, knowing my man well. 

“I swear that it is not,” he asserted hotly. 

“Swear again,” I retorted, “for I’ll not deal with you 
for less than five thousand.” 

He did swear again and protested loudly. But I was 
firm. 

“Have another glass of wine,” I said. 

After which he gave in. 

The affair was bound to be risky. Smugglers of Eng- 
lish goods were determined and desperate men who were 
playing for high stakes and risking their necks on the 
board. In all matters of smuggling a knowledge of for- 
eign languages was an invaluable asset. I spoke Italian 
well and knew some English. I knew my worth. We 
both drank a glass of cognac and sealed our bond then 
and there. 

After which Leroux drew his chair closer to my desk. 

“Listen, then,” he said. “You know the firm of Four- 
nier Freres, in the Rue Colbert?” 

“By name, of course. Cutlers and surgical instrument 
makers by appointment to His Majesty. What about 
them?” 

“M. le Due has had his eyes on them for some time.” 


THE TOYS 


155 


“Fournier Freres !” I ejaculated. “Impossible ! A more 
reputable firm does not exist in France/’ 

“I know, I know,” he rejoined impatiently. “And yet 
it is a curious fact that M. Aristide Fournier, the junior 
partner, has lately bought for himself a house at St. 
Claude.” 

“At St. Claude?” I ejaculated. 

“Yes,” he responded dryly. “Very near to Gex, what?” 

I shrugged my shoulders, for indeed the circumstances 
did appear somewhat strange. 

Do you know Gex, my dear Sir? Ah, it is a curious 
and romantic spot. It has possibilities, both natural and 
political, which appear to have been expressly devised for 
the benefit of the smuggling fraternity. Nestling in the 
midst of the Jura mountains, it is outside the customs 
zone of the Empire. So you see the possibilities, do you 
not? Gex soon became the picturesque warehouse of 
every conceivable kind of contraband goods. On one 
side of it there was the Swiss frontier, and the Swiss 
Government was always willing to close one eye in the 
matter of customs provided its palm was sufficiently 
greased by the light-fingered gentry. No difficulty, there- 
fore, as you see, in getting contraband goods — even Eng- 
lish ones — as far as Gex. 

Here they could be kept hidden until a fitting oppor- 
tunity occurred for smuggling them into France, op- 
portunities for which the Jura, with their narrow defiles 
and difficult mountain paths, afforded magnificent scope. 
St. Claude, of which Leroux had just spoken as the 
place where M. Aristide Fournier had recently bought 


156 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


himself a house, is in France, only a few kilometres from 
the neutral zone of Gex. It seemed a strange spot to 
choose for a wealthy and fashionable member of Parisian 
bourgeois society, I was bound to admit. 

“But,” I mused, “one cannot go to Gex without a per- 
mit from the police.” 

“Not by road,” Leroux assented. “But you will own 
that there are means available to men who are young and 
vigorous like M. Fournier, who moreover, I understand, 
is an accomplished mountaineer. You know Gex, of 
course ?” 

I had crossed the Jura .once, in my youth, but was not 
very intimately familiar with the district. Leroux had a 
carefully drawn-out map of it in his pocket; this he laid 
out before me. 

“These two roads,” he began, tracing the windings of a 
couple of thin red lines on the map with the point of his 
finger, “are the only two made ones that lead in and out 
of the district. Here is the Valserine,” he went on, 
pointing to a blue line, “which flows from north to south, 
and both the roads wind over bridges that span the river 
close to our frontier. The French customs stations are 
on our side of those bridges. But, besides those two 
roads, the frontier can, of course, be crossed by one or 
other of the innumerable mountain tracks which are only 
accessible to pedestrians or mules. That is where our cus- 
toms officials are powerless, for the tracks are precipitous 
and offer unlimited cover to those who know every inch 
of the ground. Several of them lead directly into St. 
Claude, at some considerable distance from the customs 


THE TOYS 


157 


stations, and it is these tracks which are being used by 
M. Aristide Fournier for the felonious purpose of trad- 
ing with the enemy — on this I would stake my life. But 
I mean to be even with him, and if I get the help which I 
require from you, I am convinced that I can lay him by 
the heels.” 

“I am your man,” I concluded simply. 

“Very well,” he resumed. “Are you prepared to jour- 
ney with me to Gex?” 

“When do you start?” 

“To-day.” 

“I shall be ready.” 

He gave a deep sigh of satisfaction. 

“Then listen to my plan,” he said. “We’ll journey to- 
gether as far as St. Claude; from there you will push 
on to Gex, and take up your abode in the city, styling 
yourself an interpreter. This will give you the oppor- 
tunity of mixing with some of the smuggling fraternity, 
and it will be your duty to keep both your eyes and ears 
open. I, on the other hand, will take up my quarters at 
Mijoux, the French customs station, which is on the 
frontier, about half a dozen kilometres from Gex. Every 
day I’ll arrange to meet you, either at the latter place or 
somewhere half-way, and hear what news you may have 
to tell me. And mind, Ratichon,” he added sternly, “it 
means running straight, or the reward will slip through 
our fingers.” 

I chose to ignore the coarse insinuation, and only 
riposted quietly : 

“I must have money on account. I am a poor man, and 


158 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


will be out of pocket by the transaction from the hour I 
start for Gex to that when you pay me my fair share of 
the reward.” 

By way of a reply he took out a case from his pocket. 
I saw that it was bulging over with banknotes, which con- 
firmed me in my conviction both that he was actually an 
emissary of the Minister of Police and that I could have 
demanded an additional thousand francs without fear of 
losing the business. 

“I'll give you five hundred on account,” he said as he 
licked his ugly thumb preparatory to counting out the 
money before me. 

“Make it a thousand,” I retorted; “and call it ‘addi- 
tional/ not ‘on account/ ” 

He tried to argue. 

“I am not keen on the business,” I said with calm 
dignity, “so if you think that I am asking too much — there 
are others, no doubt, who would do the work for less.” 

It was a bold move. But it succeeded. Leroux laughed 
and shrugged his shoulders. Then he counted out ten 
hundred-franc notes and laid them out upon the desk. 
But before I could touch them he laid his large bony 
hands over the lot and, looking me straight between the 
eyes, he said with earnest significance : 

“English files are worth as much as twenty francs 
apiece in the market.” 

“I know.” 

“Fournier Freres would not take the risks which they 
are doing for a consignment of less than ten thousand.” 

“I doubt if they would,” I rejoined blandly. 


THE TOYS 


159 


“It will be your business to find out how and when the 
smugglers propose to get their next consignment over the 
frontier. ,, 

“Exactly.” 

“And to communicate any information you may have 
obtained to me.” 

“And to keep an eye on the valuable cargo, of course?” 
I concluded. 

“Yes,” he said roughly, “an eye. But hands off, un- 
derstand, my good Ratichon, or there'll be trouble.” 

He did not wait to hear my indignant protest. He 
had risen to his feet, and had already turned to go. Now 
he stretched his great coarse hand out to me. 

“All in good part, eh?” 

I took his hand. He meant no harm, did old Leroux. 
He was just a common, vulgar fellow who did not know 
a gentleman when he saw one. 

And we parted the best of friends.. 

§ 2 

A week later I was at Gex. At St. Claude I had 
parted from Leroux, and then hired a chaise to take me 
to my destination. It was a matter of fifteen kilometres 
by road over the frontier of the customs zone and through 
the most superb scenery I had ever seen in my life. We 
drove through narrow gorges, on each side of which the 
mountain heights rose rugged and precipitous to incal- 
culable altitudes above. From time to time only did I 
get peeps of almost imperceptible tracks along the de- 


160 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


clivities, tracks on which it seemed as if goats alone could 
obtain a footing. Once — hundreds of feet above me — I 
spied a couple of mules descending what seemed like a 
sheer perpendicular path down the mountain side. The 
animals appeared to be heavily laden, and I marvelled 
what forbidden goods lay hidden within their packs and 
whether in the days that were to come I too should be 
called upon to risk my life on those declivities following 
in the footsteps of the reckless and desperate criminals 
whom it was my duty to pursue. 

I confess that at the thought, and with those pictures 
of grim nature before me, I felt an unpleasant shiver 
coursing down my spine. 

Nothing of importance occurred during the first fort- 
night of my sojourn at Gex. I was installed in moder- 
ately comfortable, furnished rooms in the heart of the 
city, close to the church and market square. In one of 
my front windows, situated on the ground floor, I had 
placed a card bearing the inscription: “Aristide Barrot, 
Interpreter,” and below, “Anglais, Allemand, Italien.” I 
had even had a few clients — conversations between the 
local police and some poor wretches caught in the act of 
smuggling a few yards of Swiss silk or a couple of 
cream cheeses over the French frontier, and sent back 
to Gex to be dealt with by the local authorities. 

Leroux had found lodgings at Mijoux, and twice daily 
he walked over to Gex to consult with me. We met, 
mornings and evenings, at the cafe restaurant of the 
Crane Chauve, an obscure little tavern situated on the out- 
skirts of the city. He was waxing impatient at what he 


THE TOYS 


161 


called my supineness, for indeed so far I had had nothing 
to report. 

There was no sign of M. Aristide Fournier. No one 
in Gex appeared to know anything about him, though the 
proprietor of the principal hotel in the town did recollect 
having had a visitor of that name once or twice during 
the past year. But, of course, during this early stage of 
my stay in the town it was impossible for me to believe 
anything that I was told. I had not yet succeeded in win- 
ning the confidence of the inhabitants, and it was soon 
pretty evident to me that the whole countryside was en- 
gaged in the perilous industry of smuggling. Everyone 
from the mayor downwards did a bit of a deal now and 
again in contraband goods. In ordinary cases it only 
meant fines if one was caught, or perhaps imprisonment 
for repeated offenses. 

But four or five days after my arrival at Gex I saw 
three fellows handed over to the police of the department. 
They had been caught in the act of trying to ford the 
Valserine with half a dozen pack-mules laden with Eng- 
lish cloth. They were hanged at St. Claude two days 
later. 

I can assure you, Sir, that the news of this summary 
administration of justice sent another cold shiver down 
my spine, and I marvelled if indeed Leroux’s surmises 
were correct and if a respectable tradesman like Aristide 
Fournier would take such terrible risks even for the sake 
of heavy gains. 

I had been in Gex just a fortnight when the weather, 
which hitherto had been splendid, turned to squalls and 


162 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


storms. We were then in the second week of September. 
A torrential rain had fallen the whole of one day, during 
which I had only been out in order to meet Leroux, as 
usual, at the Cafe du Crane Chauve. I had just come 
home from our evening meeting — it was then ten o’clock 
— and I was preparing to go comfortably to bed, when I 
was startled by a violent ring at the front-door bell. 

I had only just time to wonder if this belated visitor 
desired to see me or my worthy landlady, Mme. Bournon, 
when her heavy footsteps resounded along the passage. 
The next moment I heard my name spoken peremptorily 
by a harsh voice, and Mme. Bournon’s reply that M. 
Aristide Barrot was indeed within. A few seconds later 
she ushered my nocturnal visitor into my room. 

He was wrapped in a dark mantle from head to foot, 
and he wore a wide-brimmed hat pulled right over his 
eyes. He did not remove either as he addressed me with- 
out further preamble. 

“You are an interpreter, Sir?” he queried, speaking 
very rapidly and in sharp commanding tones. 

“At your service,” I replied. 

“My name is Ernest Berty. I want you to come with 
me at once to my house. I require your services as inter- 
mediary between myself and some men who have come 
to see me on business. These men whom I wish you to 
see are Russians,” he added, I fancied as an afterthought, 
“but they speak English fluently.” 

I suppose that I looked just as I felt — somewhat 
dubious owing to the lateness of the hour and the dark- 


THE TOYS 163 

ness of the night, not to speak of the abominable weather, 
for he continued with marked impatience : 

“It is imperative that you should come at once. Though 
my house is at some little distance from here, I have a 
chaise outside which will also bring you back, and,” he 
added significantly, “I will pay you whatever you de- 
mand.” 

“It is very late,” I demurred, “the weather ” 

“Your fee, man!” he broke in roughly, “and let’s get 
on !” 

“Five hundred francs,” I said at a venture. 

“Come!” was his curt reply. “I will give you the 
money as we drive along.” 

I wished I had made it a thousand; apparently my 
services were worth a great deal to him. However, I 
picked up my mantle and my hat, and within a few seconds 
was ready to go. I shouted up to Mme. Bournon that I 
would not be home for a couple of hours, but that as I 
had my key I need not disturb her when I returned. 

Once outside the door I almost regretted my ready 
acquiescence in this nocturnal adventure. The rain was 
beating down unmercifully, and at first I saw no sign of a 
vehicle; but in answer to my visitor’s sharp command I 
followed him down the street as far as the market square, 
at the corner of which I spied the dim outline of a car- 
riage and a couple of horses. 

Without wasting too many words, M. Ernest Berty 
bundled me into the carriage, and very soon we were on 
the way. The night was impenetrably dark and the chaise 
more than ordinarily rickety. I had but little opportunity 


164 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


to ascertain which way we were going. A small lanthorn 
fixed opposite to me in the interior of the carriage, and 
flickering incessantly before my eyes, made it still more 
impossible for me to see anything outside the narrow 
window. My companion sat beside me, silent and ab- 
sorbed. After a while I ventured to ask him which way 
we were driving. 

“Through the town,” he replied curtly. “My house is 
just outside Divonne.” 

Now, Divonne is, as I knew, quite close to the Swiss 
frontier. It is a matter of seven or eight kilometres — 
an hour’s drive at the very least in this supremely un- 
comfortable vehicle. I tried to induce further conversa- 
tion, but made no headway against my companion’s 
taciturnity. However, I had little cause for complaint in 
another direction. After the first quarter of an hour, 
and when we had left the cobblestones of the city behind 
us, he drew a bundle of notes from his pocket, and by 
the flickering light of the lanthorn he counted out ten 
fifty-franc notes and handed them without another word 
to me. 

The drive was unspeakably wearisome; but after a 
while I suppose that the monotonous rumbling of the 
wheels and the incessant patter of the rain against the 
window-panes lulled me into a kind of torpor. Certain it 
is that presently — much sooner than I had anticipated 
— the chaise drew up with a jerk, and I was roused to 
full consciousness by hearing M. Berty’s voice saying 
curtly : 

“Here we are ! Come with me !” 


THE TOYS 


165 


I was stiff, Sir, and I was shivering — not so much with 
cold as with excitement. You will readily understand 
that all my faculties were now on the qui vive. Somehow 
or other during the wearisome drive by the side of my 
close-tongued companion my mind had fastened on the 
certitude that my adventure of this night bore a close 
connexion to the firm of Fournier Freres and to the 
English files which were causing so many sleepless nights 
to M. le Due d'Otrante, Minister of Police. 

But nothing in my manner, as I stepped out of the 
carriage under the porch of the house which loomed dark 
and massive out of the surrounding gloom, betrayed any- 
thing of what I felt. Outwardly I was just a worthy 
bourgeois, an interpreter by profession, and delighted at 
the remunerative work so opportunely put in my way. 

The house itself appeared lonely as well as dark. M. 
Berty led the way across a narrow passage, at the end 
of which there was a door which he pushed open, saying 
in his usual abrupt manner : “Go in there and wait. IT1 
send for you directly.” 

Then he closed the door on me, and I heard his foot- 
steps recrossing the corridor and presently ascending some 
stairs. I was left alone in a small, sparsely furnished 
room, dimly lighted by an oil lamp which hung down 
from the ceiling. There was a table in the middle of 
the room, a square of carpet on the floor, and a couple 
of chairs beside a small iron stove. I noticed that the 
single window was closely shuttered and barred. I sat 
down and waited. At first the silence around me was 
only broken by the pattering of the rain against the shut- 


166 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


ters and the soughing of the wind down the iron chimney 
pipe, but after a little while my senses, which by this 
time had become super-acute, were conscious of various 
noises within the house itself : footsteps overhead, a con- 
fused murmur of voices, and anon the unmistakable sound 
of a female voice raised as if in entreaty or in complaint. 

Somehow a vague feeling of alarm possessed itself of 
my nervous system. I began to realise my position — 
alone, a stranger in a house as to whose situation I had 
not the remotest idea, and among a set of men who, if 
my surmises were correct, were nothing less than a gang 
of determined and dangerous criminals. The voices, 
especially the female one, were now sounding more clear. 
I tiptoed to the door, and very gently opened it. There 
was indeed no mistaking the tone of desperate pleading 
which came from some room above and .through a 
woman' s lips. I even caught the words : “Oh, don’t ! Oh, 
don’t! Not again!” repeated at intervals with pitiable 
insistence. 

Mastering my not unnatural anxiety, I opened the 
door a little farther and slipped out into the passage, all 
my instincts of chivalry towards beauty in distress aroused 
by those piteous cries. Forgetful of every possible dan- 
ger and of all prudence, I had already darted down the 
corridor, determined to do my duty as a gentleman as 
soon as I had ascertained whence had come those cries 
of anguish, when I heard the frou-frou of skirts and a 
rapid patter of small feet down the stairs. The next mo- 
ment a radiant vision, all white muslin, fair curls and the 
scent of violets, descended on me from above, a soft hand 


THE TOYS 167 

closed over mine and drew me, unresisting, back into the 
room from whence I had just come. 

Bewildered, I gazed on the winsome apparition before 
me, and beheld a young girl, slender as a lily, dressed in a 
soft, clinging gown which made her appear more slender 
still, her fair hair arranged in a tangle of unruly curls 
round the dainty oval of her face. 

She was exquisite, Sir! And the slenderness of her! 
You cannot imagine it! She looked like a young sapling 
bending to the gale. But what cut me to the heart was 
the look of terror and of misery in her face. She clasped 
her hands together and the tears gathered in her eyes. 

“Go, Sir, go at once!” she murmured under her breath, 
speaking very rapidly. “Do not waste a minute, I beg 
of you ! As you value your life, go before it is too late!” 

“But, Mademoiselle,” I stammered; for indeed her 
words and appearance had roused all my worst fears, but 
also all my instincts of the sleuth-hound scenting his 
quarry. 

“Don’t argue, I beg of you,” continued the lovely 
creature, who indeed seemed the prey of overwhelming 
emotions — fear, horror, pity. “When he comes back do 
not let him find you here. I’ll explain, I’ll know what 
to say, only I entreat you — go !” 

Sir, I have many faults, but cowardice does not hap- 
pen to be one of them, and the more the angel pleaded the 
more determined was I to see this business through. I 
was, of course, quite convinced by now that I was on the 
track of M. Aristide Fournier and the English files, and 
I was not going to let five thousand francs and the 


168 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


gratitude of the Minister of Police slip through my 
fingers so easily. 

“Mademoiselle,” I rejoined as calmly as I could, “let 
me assure you that though your anxiety for me is like 
manna to a starving man, I have no fears for my own 
safety. I have come here in the capacity of a humble 
interpreter; I certainly am not worth putting out of the 
way. Moreover, I have been paid for my services, and 
these I will render to my employer to the best of my 
capabilities.” 

“Ah, but you don’t know,” she retorted, not depart- 
ing one jot from her attitude of terror and of entreaty, 
“you don’t understand. This house, Monsieur,” she 
added in a hoarse whisper, “is nothing but a den of 
criminals wherein no honest man or woman is safe.” 

“Pardon, Mademoiselle,” I riposted as lightly and as 
gallantly as I could, “I see before me the living proof 
that angels, at any rate, dwell therein.” 

“Alas! Sir,” she rejoined, with a heart-rending sigh, 
“if you mean me, I am only to be pitied. My dear 
mother and I are naught but slaves to the will of my 
brother, who uses us as tools for his nefarious ends.” 

“But ...” I stammered, horrified beyond speech at 
the vista of villainy which her words had opened up be- 
fore me. 

“My mother, Sir,” she said simply, “is old and ailing; 
she is dying of anguish at sight of her son’s misdeeds. I 
would not, could not leave her, yet I would give my life 
to see her free from that miscreant’s clutches!” 

My whole soul was stirred to its depths by the intensity 


THE TOYS 


169 


of passion which rang through this delicate creature’s 
words. What weird and awesome mystery of iniquity 
and of crime lay hid, I wondered, between these walls? In 
what tragedy had I thus accidentally become involved 
while fulfilling my prosaic duty in the interest of His 
Majesty’s exchequer? As in a flash it suddenly came 
to me that perhaps I could serve both this lovely creature 
and the Emperor better by going out of the house now, 
and lying hidden all the night through somewhere in its 
vicinity until in daylight I could locate its exact situation. 
Then I could communicate with Leroux at once and pro- 
cure the apprehension of this Berty — or Fournier — who 
apparently was a desperate criminal. Already a bold plan 
was taking shape in my brain, and with my mind’s eye I 
had measured the distance which separated me from the 
front door and safety when, in the distance, I heard heavy 
footsteps slowly descending the stairs. I looked at my 
lovely companion, and saw her eyes gradually dilating 
with increased horror. She gave a smothered cry, pressed 
her handkerchief to her lips, then she murmured hoarsely, 
“Too late!” and fled precipitately from the room, leaving 
me a prey to mingled emotions such as I had never ex- 
perienced before. 

§ 3 

A moment or two *ater M. Ernest Berty, or whatever 
his real name may have been, entered the room. Whether 
he had encountered his exquisite sister on the corridor 
or the stairs, I could not tell ; his face, in the dim light 
of the hanging lamp, looked impenetrable and sinister. 


170 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


“This way, M. Barrot,” he said curtly. 

Just for one brief moment the thought occurred to me 
to throw myself upon him with my whole weight — which 
was considerable — and make a wild dash for the front 
door. But it was more than probable that I should be 
intercepted and brought back, after which no doubt I 
would be an object of suspicion to these rascals and my 
life would not be worth an hour’s purchase. With the 
young girl’s warnings ringing in my ears, I felt that my 
one chance of safety and of circumventing these criminals 
lay in my seeming ingenuousness and complete guileless- 
ness. 

I assumed a perfect professional manner and followed 
my companion up the stairs. He ushered me into a room 
just above the one where I had been waiting up to now. 
Three men dressed in rough clothes were sitting at a 
table on which stood a couple of tankards and four empty 
pewter mugs. My employer offered me a glass of ale, 
which I declined. Then we got to work. 

At the first words which M. Berty uttered I knew 
that all my surmises had been correct. Whether he him- 
self was M. Aristide Fournier, or another partner of that 
firm, or some other rascal engaged in nefarious doings, 
I could not know ; certain it was that through the medium 
of cipher words and phrases which he thought were un- 
intelligible to me, and which he ordered me to interpret 
into English, he was giving directions to the three men 
with regard to the convoying of contraband cargo over 
the frontier. 

There was much talk of “toys” and “babies” — the latter 


THE TOYS 


171 


were to take a walk in the mountains and to avoid the 
“thorns”; the “toys” were to be securely fastened and 
well protected against water. It was obviously a case 
of mules and of the goods, the “thorns” being the cus- 
toms officials. By the time that we had finished I was 
absolutely convinced in my mind that the cargo was one 
of English files or razors, for it was evidently extraordi- 
narily valuable and not at all bulky, seeing that two 
“babies” were to carry all the “toys” for a considerable 
distance. The men, too, were obviously English. I tried 
the few words of Russian that I knew on them, and their 
faces remained perfectly blank. 

Yes, indeed, I was on the track of M. Aristide Fournier, 
and of one of the most important hauls of enemy goods 
which had ever been made in France. Not only that. I 
had also before me one of the most brutish criminals it 
had ever been my misfortune to come across. A bully, a 
fiend of cruelty. In very truth my fertile brain was 
seething with plans for eventually laying that abominable 
ruffian by the heels: hanging would be a merciful pun- 
ishment for such a miscreant. Yes, indeed, five thousand 
francs — a goodly sum in those days, Sir — was practically 
assured me. But over and above mere lucre there was 
the certainty that in a few days’ time I should see the 
light of gratitude shining out of a pair of lustrous blue 
eyes, and a winning smile chasing away the look of 
fear and of sorrow from the sweetest face I had seen for 
many a day. 

Despite the turmoil that was raging in my brain, how- 
ever, I flatter myself that my manner with the rascals re- 


ra 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


mained consistently calm, businesslike, indifferent to all 
save to the work in hand. The soi-disant Ernest Berty 
spoke invariably in French, either dictating his orders or 
seeking information, and I made verbal translation into 
English of all that he said. The seance lasted close upon 
an hour, and presently I gathered that the affair was 
terminated and that I could consider myself dismissed. 

I was about to take my leave, having apparently com- 
pleted my work, when M. Ernest Berty called me back 
with a curt command. 

“One moment, M. Barrot,” he said. 

“At Monsieur’s service,” I responded blandly. 

“As you see,” he continued, “these fellows do not know 
a word of French. All along the way which they will 
have to traverse they will meet friendly outposts, who 
will report to them on the condition of the roads and 
warn them of any danger that might be ahead. Their 
ignorance of our language may be a source of infinite 
peril to them. They need an interpreter to accompany 
them over the mountains.” 

He paused for a moment or two, then added abruptly : 

“Would you care to go? The matter is important,” 
he went on quietly, “and I am willing to pay you. It 
means a couple of nights’ journey — a halt in the moun- 
tains during the day — and there will be ten thousand 
francs for you if the ‘toys’ reach St. Claude safely.” 

I suppose that something in my face betrayed the eager- 
ness which I felt. Here was indeed the finger of Provi- 
dence pointing to the best means of undoing this abomi- 
nable criminal. Not that I intended to risk my neck for 


THE TOYS 


173 


any ten thousand francs he chose to offer me, but as 
the trusted guide of his ingenuous ‘‘babies” I could con- 
voy them — not to St. Claude, as he blandly believed, but 
straight into the arms of Leroux and the customs officials. 

“Then that is understood,” he said in his usual dicta- 
torial manner, taking my consent for granted. “Ten 
thousand francs. And you will accompany these gentle- 
men and their ‘babies’ as far as St. Claude?” 

“I am a poor man, Sir,” I responded meekly. 

“Of course you are,” he broke in roughly. 

Then from a number of papers which lay upon the 
table, he selected one which he held out to me. 

“Do you know St. Cergues?” he asked. 

“Yes,” I replied. “It is a short walk from Gex.” 

“This,” he added, pointing to a paper which I had 
taken from him, “is a plan of the village and of the Pass 
of Cergues close by. Study it carefully. At some point 
some way up the pass, which I have marked with a cross, 
I and my men with the ‘babies’ will be waiting for you 
to-morrow evening at eight o’clock. You cannot possibly 
fail to find the spot, for the plan is very accurate and 
very minute, and it is less than five hundred metres from 
the last house at the entrance of the pass. I shall escort 
the men until then, and hand them over into your charge 
for the mountain journey. Is that clear?” 

“Perfectly.” 

“Very well, then; you may go. The carriage is out- 
side the door. You know your way.” 

He dismissed me with a curt nod, and the next two 
minutes saw me outside this house of mystery and in- 


174 * 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


stalled inside the ramshackle vehicle on my way back to 
my lodgings. 

I was worn out with fatigue and excitement, and I 
imagine that I slept most of the way. Certain it is that 
the journey home was not nearly so long as the outward 
one had been. The rain was still coming down heavily, 
but I cared nothing about the weather, nothing about 
fatigue. My path to fame and fortune had been made 
easier for me than in my wildest dreams I would have 
dared to hope. In the morning I would see Leroux and 
make final arrangements for the capture of those im- 
pudent smugglers, and I thought the best way would be 
for him to meet me and the “babies” and the “toys” at 
the very outset of our journey, as I did not greatly relish 
the idea of crossing lonely and dangerous mountain paths 
in the company of these ruffians. 

I reached home without adventure. The vehicle drew 
up just outside my lodgings, and I was about to alight 
when my eyes were attracted by something white which 
lay on the front seat of the carriage, conspicuously placed 
so that the light from the inside lanthorn fell full upon it. 
I had been too tired and too dazed, I suppose, to notice 
the thing before, but now, on closer inspection, I saw that 
it was a note, and that it was addressed to me: “M. 
Aristide Barrot, Interpreter,” and below my name were 
the words: “Very urgent.” 

I took the note feeling a thrill of excitement running 
through my veins at its touch. I alighted, and the 
vehicle immediately disappeared into the night. I had 
only caught one glimpse of the horses, and none at all 


THE TOYS 


175 


of the coachman. Then I went straight into my room, 
and by the light of the table lamp I unfolded and read the 
mysterious note. It bore no signature, but at the first 
words I knew that the writer was none other than the 
lovely young creature who had appeared to me like an 
angel of innocence in the midst of that den of thieves. 

“Monsieur/’ she had written in a hand which had 
clearly been trembling with agitation, “you are good, you 
are kind; I entreat you to be merciful. My dear mother, 
whom I worship, is sick with terror and misery. She 
will die if she remains any longer under the sway of that 
inhuman monster who, alas! is my own brother. And 
if I lose her I shall die, too, for I should no longer have 
anyone to stand between me and his cruelties. 

“My dear mother has some relations living at St. 
Claude. She would have gone to them before now, but 
my brother keeps us both virtual prisoners here, and we 
have no means of arranging for such a perilous journey 
for ourselves. Now, by the most extraordinary stroke of 
good fortune, my brother will be absent all day to-morrow 
and the following night. My dear mother and I feel that 
God Himself is showing us the way to our release. 

“Will you, can you help us, dear M. Barrot? Mother 
and I will be at Gex to-morrow at one hour after sun- 
down. We will lie perdue in the little Taverne du Roi de 
Rome, where, if you come to us, you will find us waiting 
anxiously. If you can do nothing to help us, we must re- 
turn broken-hearted to our hated prison ; but something in 
my heart tells me that you can help us. All that we want 


176 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


is a vehicle of some sort and the escort of a brave man like 
yourself as far as St. Claude, where our relatives will 
thank you on their knees for your kindness and generosity 
to two helpless, miserable, unprotected women, and I will 
kiss your hands in unbounded gratitude and devotion.” 

It were impossible, Monsieur, to tell you of the varied 
emotions which filled my heart when I had perused that 
heart-rending appeal. All my instincts of chivalry were 
aroused. I was determined to do my duty to these 
helpless ladies as a man and as a gallant knight. Even 
before I finally went to bed I had settled in my mind 
what I meant to do. Fortunately it was quite possible for 
me to reconcile my duties to my Emperor and those which 
I owed to myself in the matter of the reward for the ap- 
prehension of the smugglers, with my burning desire to 
be the saviour and protector of the lovely creature whose 
beauty had inflamed my impressionable heart, and to 
have my hands kissed by her in gratitude and devotion. 

The next morning Leroux and I were deep in our plans, 
whilst we sipped our coffee outside the Crane Chauve. 
He was beside himself with joy and excitement at the 
prospective haul, which would, of course, redound enor- 
mously to his credit, even though the success of the whole 
undertaking would be due to my acumen, my resourceful- 
ness and my pluck. Fortunately I found him not only 
ready but eager to render me what assistance he could in 
the matter of the two ladies who had thrown themselves 
so entirely on my protection. 

“We might get valuable information out of them,” 


THE TOYS 


177 


he remarked. “In the excess of their gratitude they may 
betray many more secrets and nefarious doings of the 
firm of Fournier Freres.” 

“Which further proves,” I remarked, “how deeply you 
and Monsieur le Ministre of Police are indebted to me 
over this affair.’’ 

He did not argue the point. Indeed, we were both of 
us far too much excited to waste words in useless bicker- 
ings. Our plans for the evening were fairly simple. We 
both pored over the map which Fournier-Berty had given 
me, until we felt that we could reach blindfolded the spot 
which had been marked with a cross. We then arranged 
that Leroux should betake himself thither with a strong 
posse of gendarmes during the day, and lie hidden in the 
vicinity until such time as I myself appeared upon the 
scene, identified my friends of the night before, parleyed 
with them for a minute or two, and finally retired, leaving 
the law in all its majesty, as represented by Leroux, to 
deal with the rascals. 

In the meantime I also mapped out for myself my own 
share in this night’s adventurous work. I had hired a 
vehicle to take me as far as St. Cergues ; here I intended 
to leave it at the local inn, and then proceed on foot up the 
mountain pass to the appointed spot. As soon as I had 
seen the smugglers safely in the hands of Leroux and the 
gendarmes, I would make my way back to St. Cergues as 
rapidly as I could, step into my vehicle, drive like the 
wind back to Gex, and place myself at the disposal of my 
fair angel and her afflicted mother. 

Leroux promised me that at the customs station on the 


178 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


French frontier the officials would look after me and the 
ladies, and that a pair of fresh horses would be ready 
to take us straight on to St. Claude, which, if all was 
well, we could then reach by daybreak. 

Having settled all these matters we parted company, 
he to arrange his own affairs with the Commissary of 
Police and the customs officials, and I to await with as 
much patience as I could the hour when I could start for 
St. Cergues. 

§ 4 

The night — just as I anticipated — promised to be very 
dark. A thin drizzle, which wetted the unfortunate pedes- 
trian to the marrow, had replaced the torrential rain of the 
previous day. 

Twilight was closing in very fast. In the late autumn 
afternoon I drove to St. Cergues, after which I left the 
chaise in the village and boldly started to walk up the 
mountain pass. I had studied the map so carefully that 
I was quite sure of my way, but though my appointment 
with the rascals was for eight o’clock, I wished to reach 
the appointed spot before the last flicker of grey light had 
disappeared from the sky. 

Soon I had left the last house well behind me. Boldly 
I plunged into the narrow path. The loneliness of the 
place was indescribable. Every step which I took on the 
stony track seemed to rouse the echoes of the grim heights 
which rose precipitously on either side of me, and in my 
mind I felt aghast at the extraordinary courage of those 
men who — like Aristide Fournier and his gang — chose to 


THE TOYS 


179 


affront such obvious and manifold dangers as these frown- 
ing mountain regions held for them for the sake of paltry 
lucre. 

I had walked, according to my reckoning, just upon 
five hundred metres through the gorge, when on ahead 
I perceived the flicker of lights which appeared to be 
moving to and fro. The silence and loneliness no longer 
seemed to be absolute. A few metres from where I was 
men were living and breathing, plotting and planning, un- 
conscious of the net which the unerring hand of a skilful 
fowler had drawn round them and their misdeeds. 

The next moment I was challenged by a peremptory 
“Halt!” Recognition followed. M. Ernest Berty, or 
Aristide Fournier, whichever he was, acknowledged with 
a few words my punctuality, whilst through the gloom I 
took rapid stock of his little party. I saw the vague 
outline of three men and a couple of mules which appeared 
to be heavily laden. They were assembled on a flat 
piece of ground which appeared like a roofless cavern 
carved out of the mountain side. The walls of rock 
around them afforded them both cover and refuge. They 
seemed in no hurry to start. They had the long night 
before them, so one of them remarked in English. 

However, presently M. Fournier-Berty gave the signal 
for the start to be made, he himself preparing to take 
leave of his men. Just at that moment my ears caught 
the welcome sound of the tramping of feet, and before 
any of the rascals there could realise what was happening, 
their way was barred by Leroux and his gendarmes, who 


180 CASTLES IN THE AIR 

loudly gave the order, “Hands up, in the name of the Em- 
peror !” 

I was only conscious of a confused murmur of voices, 
of the click of firearms, of words of command passing 
to and fro, and of several violent oaths uttered in the not 
unfamiliar voice of M. Aristide Fournier. But already 
I had spied Leroux. I only exchanged a few words with 
him, for indeed my share of the evening’s work was done 
as far as he was concerned, and I made haste to retrace 
my steps through the darkness and the rain along the 
lonely mountain path toward the goal where chivalry and 
manly ardour beckoned to me from afar. 

I found my vehicle waiting for me at St. Cergues, and 
by the promise of an additional pourboire, I succeeded in 
making the driver whip up his horses to some purpose. 
Less than an hour later we drew up at Gex outside the 
little inn, pretentiously called Le Roi de Rome. On alight- 
ing I was met by the proprietress who, in answer to my in- 
quiry after two ladies who had arrived that afternoon, 
at once conducted me upstairs. 

Already my mind was busy conjuring up visions of the 
fair lady of yester-eve. The landlady threw open a door 
and ushered me into a small room which reeked of stale 
food and damp clothes. I stepped in and found myself 
face to face with a large and exceedingly ugly old woman 
who rose with difficulty from the sofa as I entered. 

“M. Aristide Barrot,” she said as soon as the landlady 
had closed the door behind me. 

“At your service, Madame,” I stammered. “But ” 

I was indeed almost aghast. Never in my life had I 


THE TOYS 


181 


seen anything so grotesque as this woman. To begin 
with she was more than ordinarily stout and unwieldy — 
indeed, she appeared like a veritable mountain of flesh; 
but what was so disturbing to my mind was that she was 
nothing but a hideous caricature of her lovely daughter, 
whose dainty features she grotesquely recalled. Her face 
was seamed and wrinkled, her white hair was plastered 
down above her yellow forehead. She wore an old- 
fashioned bonnet tied under her chin, and her huge bulk 
was draped in a large-patterned cashmere shawl. 

“You expected to see my dear daughter deside me, my 
good M. Barrot,” she said after a while speaking with re- 
markable gentleness and dignity. 

“I confess, Madame ” I murmured. 

“Ah! the darling has sacrificed herself for my sake. 
We found to-day that though my son was out of the 
way, he had set his abominable servants to watch over us. 
Soon we realized that we could not both get away. It 
meant one of us staying behind to act the part of uncon- 
cern and to throw dust in the eyes of our jailers. My 
daughter — ah ! she is an angel, Monsieur — feared that the 
disappointment and my son’s cruelty, when he returned 
on the morrow and found that he had been tricked, would 
seriously endanger my life. She decided that I must go 
and that she would remain.” 

“But, Madame ” I protested. 

“I know, Monsieur,” she rejoined with the same calm 
dignity which already had commanded my respect, “I 
know that you think me a selfish old woman; but my 
Angele — she is an angel, of a truth! — made all the ar- 


182 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


rangements, and I could not help but obey her. But have 
no fears for her safety, Monsieur. My son would not 
dare lay hands on her as often as he has done on me. 
Angele will be brave, and our relations at St. Claude will, 
directly we arrive, make arrangements to go and fetch 
her and bring her back to me. My brother is an influential 
man ; he would never have allowed my son to martyrize 
me and Angele had he known what we have had to en- 
dure.” 

Of course I could not then tell her that all her fears 
for herself and the lovely Angele could now be laid to rest. 
Her ruffianly son was even now being conveyed by Leroux 
and his gendarmes to the frontier, where the law would 
take its course. I was indeed not sorry for him. I was 
not sorry to think that he would end his evil life upon the 
guillotine or the gallows. I was only grieved for Angele 
who would spend a night and a day, perhaps more, in 
agonized suspense, knowing nothing of the events which 
at one great swoop would free her and her beloved mother 
from the tyranny of a hated brother and send him to 
expiate his crimes. Not only did I grieve, Sir, for the 
tender victim of that man’s brutality, but I trembled for 
her safety. I did not know what minions or confederates 
Fournier-Berty had left in the lonely house yonder, or 
under what orders they were in case he did not return 
from his nocturnal expedition. 

Indeed for the moment I felt so agitated at thought of 
that beautiful angel’s peril that I looked down with anger 
and scorn at the fat old woman who ought to have re- 
mained beside her daughter to comfort and to shield her. 


THE TOYS 


18 S 


I was on the point of telling her everything, and dragging 
her back to her post of duty which she should never have 
relinquished. Fortunately my sense of what I owed to 
my own professional dignity prevented my taking such a 
step. It was clearly not for me to argue. My first duty 
was to stand by this helpless woman in distress, who had 
been committed to my charge, and to convey her safely to 
St. Claude. After which I could see to it that Mademoi- 
selle Angele was brought along too as quickly as influ- 
ential relatives could contrive. 

In the meanwhile I derived some consolation from the 
thought that at any rate for the next four and twenty 
hours the lovely creature would be safe. No news of the 
arrest of Aristide Fournier could possibly reach the lonely 
house until I myself could return thither and take her 
under my protection. 

So I said nothing; but with perfect gallantry, just as 
if fat Mme. Fournier had been a young and beautiful 
woman, I begged her to give herself the trouble of mount- 
ing into the carriage which was waiting for her. 

It took time and trouble, Sir, to hoist that mass of solid 
flesh into the vehicle, and the driver grumbled not a little 
at the unexpected weight. However, his horses were 
powerful, wiry, mountain ponies, and we made headway 
through the darkness and along the smooth, departmental 
road at moderate speed. I may say that it was a miserably 
uncomfortable journey for me, sitting, as I was forced to 
do, on the narrow front seat of the carriage, without sup- 
port for my head or room for my legs. But Madame’ s 
bulk filled the whole of the back seat, and it never seemed 


184 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


to enter her head that I too might like the use of a cushion. 

However, even the worst moments and the weariest 
journeys must come to an end, and we reached the frontier 
in the small hours of the morning. Here we found the 
customs officials ready to render us any service we might 
require. Leroux had not failed to order the fresh relay 
of horses, and whilst these were being put to, the polite 
officers of the station gave Madame and myself some 
excellent coffee. Beyond the formal : “Madame has noth- 
ing to declare for His Majesty’s customs?” and my com- 
panion’s equally formal : “Nothing, Monsieur, except my 
personal belongings,” they did not ply us with questions, 
and after half an hour’s halt we again proceeded on our 
way. 

We reached St. Claude at daybreak, and following 
Madame’s directions, the driver pulled up in front of a 
large house in the Avenue du Jura. Again there was the 
same difficulty in hoisting the unwieldy lady out of the 
vehicle, but this time, in response to my vigorous pull at 
the outside bell, the concierge and another man came out 
of the house, and very respectfully they approached 
Madame and conveyed her into the house. 

While they did so she apparently gave them some direc- 
tions about myself, for anon the concierge returned, and 
with extreme politeness told me that Madame Fournier 
greatly hoped that I would stay in St. Claude a day or two 
as she had the desire to see me again very soon. She 
also honoured me with an invitation to dine with her that 
same evening at seven of the clock. This was the first 
timeu I noticed, that the name Fournier was actually used 


THE TOYS 


185 


in connexion with any of the people with whom I had 
become so dramatically involved. Not that I had ever 
doubted the identity of the ruffianly Ernest Berty; still 
it was very satisfactory to have my surmises confirmed. 
I concluded that the fine house in the Avenue du Jura 
belonged to Mme. Fournier’s brother, and I vaguely won- 
dered who he was. The invitation to dinner had certainly 
been given in her name, and the servants had received her 
with a show of respect which suggested that she was more 
than a guest in her brother’s house. 

Be that as it may, I betook myself for the nonce to the 
Hotel des Moines in the centre of the town and killed time 
for the rest of the day as best I could. For one thing I 
needed rest after the emotions and the fatigue of the past 
forty-eight hours. Remember, Sir, I had not slept for 
two nights and had spent the last eight hours on the nar- 
row front seat of a jolting chaise. So I had a good rest in 
the afternoon, and at seven o’clock I presented myself once 
more at the house in the Avenue du Jura. 

My intention was to retire early to bed after spending 
an agreeable evening with the family, who would no doubt 
overwhelm me with their gratitude, and at daybreak I 
would drive back to Gex after I had heard all the latest 
news from Leroux. 

I confess that it was with a pardonable feeling of agi- 
tation that I tugged at the wrought-iron bell-pull on the 
perron of the magnificent mansion in the Avenue du 
Jura. To begin with I felt somewhat rueful at having to 
appear before ladies at this hour in my travelling clothes, 
and then, you will admit, Sir, that it was a somewhat 


186 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


awkward predicament for a man of highly sensitive 
temperament to meet on terms of equality a refined if 
stout lady whose son he had just helped to send to the 
gallows. Fortunately there was no likelihood of Mme. 
Fournier being as yet aware of this unpleasant fact : even 
if she did know at this hour that her son’s illicit adven- 
ture had come to grief, she could not possibly in her mind 
connect me with his ill-fortune. So I allowed the sumptu- 
ous valet to take my hat and coat and I followed him 
with as calm a demeanour as I could assume up the richly 
carpeted stairs. Obviously the relatives of Mme. Four- 
nier were more than well to do. Everything in the house 
showed evidences of luxury, not to say wealth. I was 
ushered into an elegant salon wherein every corner showed 
traces of dainty feminine hands. There were embroid- 
ered silk cushions upon the sofa, lace covers upon the 
tables, whilst a work basket, filled with a riot of many 
coloured silks, stood invitingly open. And through the 
apartment, Sir, a scent of violets lingered and caressed 
my nostrils, reminding me of a beauteous creature in 
distress whom it had been my good fortune to succour. 

I had waited less than five minutes when I heard a swift, 
elastic step approaching through the next room, and a 
second or so later, before I had time to take up an appro- 
priate posture, the door was thrown open and the exqui- 
site vision of my waking dreams — the beautiful Angele — 
stood smiling before me. 

“Mademoiselle,” I stammered somewhat clumsily, for 
of a truth I was hardly able to recover my breath, and 


THE TOYS 1ST 

surprise had well nigh robbed me of speech, “how comes it 
that you are here?” 

She only smiled in reply, the most adorable smile I had 
ever seen on any human face, so full of joy, of mischief — 
aye, of triumph, was it. I asked after Madame. Again 
she smiled, and said Madame was in her room, resting 
from the fatigues of her journey. I had scarce recovered 
from my initial surprise when another — more complete 
still — confronted me. This was the appearance of 
Monsieur Aristide Fournier, whom I had fondly imagined 
already expiating his crimes in a frontier prison, but who 
now entered, also smiling, also extremely pleasant, who 
greeted me as if we were lifelong friends, and who then 
— I scarce could believe my eyes — placed his arm affec- 
tionately round his sister’s waist, while she turned her 
sweet face up to his and gave him a fond — nay, a loving 
look. A loving look to him who was a brute and a 
bully and a miscreant amenable to the gallows! True 
his appearance was completely changed: his eyes were 
bright and kindly, his mouth continued to smile, his man- 
ner was urbane in the extreme when he finally introduced 
himself to me as : “Aristide Fournier, my dear Monsieur 
Ratichon, at your service.” 

He knew my name, he knew who I was ! whilst I . . . 
I had to pass my hand once or twice over my forehead 
and to close and reopen my eyes several times, for, of a 
truth, it all seemed like a dream. I tried to stammer 
out a question or two, but I could only gasp, and the lovely 
Angele appeared highly amused at my distress. 


188 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


“Let us dine,” she said gaily, “after which you may ask 
as many questions as you like.” 

In very truth I was in no mood for dinner. Puzzle- 
ment and anxiety appeared to grip me by the throat and to 
choke me. It was all very well for the beautiful creature 
to laugh and to make merry. She had cruelly deceived 
me, played upon the chords of my sensitive heart for pur- 
poses which no doubt would presently be made clear, but 
in the meanwhile since the smuggling of the English files 
had been successful — as it apparently was — what had be- 
come of Leroux and his gendarmes? 

What tragedy had been enacted in the narrow gorge of 
St. Cergues, and what, oh ! what had become of my hopes 
of that five thousand francs for the apprehension of the 
smugglers, promised me by Leroux? Can you wonder 
that for the moment the very thought of dinner was ab- 
horrent to me? But only for the moment. The next a 
sumptuous valet had thrown open the folding-doors, and 
down the vista of the stately apartment I perceived a table 
richly laden with china and glass and silver, whilst a dis- 
tinctly savoury odour was wafted to my nostrils. 

“We will not answer a single question,” the fair 
Angele reiterated with adorable determination, “until 
after we have dined.” 

What, Sir, would you have done in my place? I be- 
lieve that never until this hour had Hector Ratichon 
reached to such a sublimity of manner. I bowed with 
perfect dignity in token of obedience to the fair creature, 
Sir; then without a word I offered her my arm. She 
placed her hand upon it, and I conducted her to the dining- 


THE TOYS 


189 


room, whilst Aristide Fournier, who at this hour should 
have been on a fair way to being hanged, followed in 
our wake. 

Ah ! it seemed indeed a lovely dream : one that lasted 
through an excellent and copious dinner, and which turned 
to delightful reality when, over a final glass of succulent 
Madeira, Monsieur Aristide Fournier slowly counted out 
one hundred notes, worth one hundred francs each, and 
presented these to me with a gracious nod. 

“Your fee, Monsieur,” he said, “and allow me to say 
that never have I paid out so large a sum with such a 
willing hand.” 

“But I have done nothing,” I murmured from out the 
depths of my bewilderment. 

Mademoiselle Angele and Monsieur Fournier looked 
at one another, and, no doubt, I presented a very comical 
spectacle ; for both of them burst into an uncontrollable fit 
of laughter. 

“Indeed, Monsieur,” quoth Monsieur Fournier as soon 
as he could speak coherently, “you have done everything 
that you set out to do and done it with perfect chivalry. 
You conveyed ‘the toys’ safely over the frontier as far as 
St. Claude.” 

“But how?” I stammered, “how?” 

Again Mademoiselle Angele laughed, and through the 
ripples of her laughter came her merry words : 

“Maman was very fat, was she not, my good Monsieur 
Ratichon? Did you not think she was extraordinarily 
like me?” 

I caught the glance in her eyes, and they were literally 


190 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


glowing with mischief. Then all of a sudden I under- 
stood. She had impersonated a fat mother, covered her 
lovely face with lines, worn a disfiguring wig and an 
antiquated bonnet, and round her slender figure she had 
tucked away thousands of packages of English files. I 
could only gasp. Astonishment, not to say admiration, 
at her pluck literally took my breath away. 

‘Tut, Monsieur Berty?” I murmured, my mind in a 
turmoil, my thoughts running riot through my brain. 
“The Englishmen, the mules, the packs ?” 

“Monsieur Berty, as you see, stands before you now 
in the person of Monsieur Fournier/’ she replied. “The 
Englishmen were three faithful servants who threw dust 
not only in your eyes, my dear M. Ratichon, but in those 
of the customs officials, while the packs contained harm- 
less personal luggage which was taken by your friend and 
his gendarmes to the customs station at Mijoux, and 
there, after much swearing, equally solemnly released 
with many apologies to M. Fournier, who was allowed to 
proceed unmolested on his way, and who arrived here 
safely this afternoon, whilst Maman divested herself of 
her fat and once more became the slender Mme. Aristide 
Fournier, at your service.” 

She bobbed me a dainty curtsy, and I could only try 
and hide the pain which this last cruel stab had inflicted 
on my heart. So she was not “Mademoiselle” after all, 
and henceforth it would even be wrong to indulge in 
dreams of her. 

But the ten thousand francs crackled pleasantly in my 
breast pocket, and when I finally took leave of Monsieur 


THE TOYS 191 

Aristide Fournier and his charming wife, I was an ex- 
ceedingly happy man. 

But Leroux never forgave me. Of what he suspected 
me I do not know, or if he suspected me at all. He 
certainly must have known about fat Maman from the 
customs officials who had given us coffee at Mijoux. 

But he never mentioned the subject to me at all, nor 
has he spoken to me since that memorable night. To 
one of his colleagues he once said that no words in his 
vocabulary could possibly be adequate to express his 
feelings. 


CHAPTER VI 


HONOUR AMONG 


§ I 


H, my dear Sir, it is easy enough to despise our 



A profession, but believe me that all the finer quali- 
ties — those of loyalty and of truth — are essential, not only 
to us, but to our subordinates, if we are to succeed in 
making even a small competence out of it. 

Now let me give you an instance. Here was I, Hector 
Ratichon, settled in Paris in that eventful year 1816 which 
saw the new order of things finally swept aside and the 
old order resume its triumphant sway, which saw us all, 
including our God-given King Louis XVIII, as poor as 
the proverbial church mice and as eager for a bit of com- 
fort and luxury as a hungry dog is for a bone ; the year 
which saw the army disbanded and hordes of unemployed 
and unemployable men wandering disconsolate and half 
starved through the country seeking in vain for some 
means of livelihood, while the Allied troops, well fed 
and well clothed, stalked about as if the sacred soil of 
France was so much dirt under their feet; the year, my 
dear Sir, during which more intrigues were hatched and 
more plots concocted than in any previous century in the 
jvhole history of France. We were all trying to make 


HONOUR AMONG 193 

money, since there was so precious little of it about. 
Those of us who had brains succeeded, and then not 
always. 

Now, I had brains — I do not boast of them ; they are a 
gift from Heaven — but I had them, and good looks, too, 
and a general air of strength, coupled with refinement, 
which was bound to appeal to anyone needing help and 
advice, and willing to pay for both, and yet — but you shall 
judge. 

You know my office in the Rue Daunou, you have been 
in it — plainly furnished; but, as I said, these were not 
days of luxury. There was an antechamber, too, where 
that traitor, blackmailer and thief, Theodore, my confi- 
dential clerk in those days, lodged at my expense and kept 
importunate clients at bay for what was undoubtedly a 
liberal salary — ten per cent, on all the profits of the 
business — and yet he was always complaining, the un- 
grateful, avaricious brute ! 

Well, Sir, on that day in September — it was the tenth, 
I remember — 1816, I must confess that I was feeling 
exceedingly dejected. Not one client for the last three 
weeks, half a franc in my pocket, and nothing but a small 
quarter of Strasburg patty in the larder. Theodore had 
eaten most of it, and I had just sent him out to buy two 
sous’ worth of stale bread wherewith to finish the re- 
mainder. But after that? You will admit, Sir, that a 
less buoyant spirit would not have remained so long un- 
daunted. 

I was just cursing that lout Theodore inwardly, for he 
had been gone half an hour, and I strongly suspected him 


194 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


of having spent my two sous on a glass of absinthe, when 
there was a ring at the door, and I, Hector Ratichon, the 
confidant of kings and intimate counsellor of half the 
aristocracy in the kingdom, was forced to go and open 
the door just like a common lackey. 

But here the sight which greeted my eyes fully compen- 
sated me for the temporary humiliation, for on the 
threshold stood a gentleman who had wealth written 
plainly upon his fine clothes, upon the dainty linen at his 
throat and wrists, upon the quality of his rich satin necktie 
and the perfect set of his fine cloth pantaloons, which were 
of an exquisite shade of dove-grey. When, then, the ap- 
parition spoke, inquiring with just a sufficiency of aris- 
tocratic hauteur whether M. Hector Ratichon were in, 
you cannot be surprised, my dear Sir, that my dejection 
fell from me like a cast-off mantle and that all my usual 
urbanity of manner returned to me as I informed the 
elegant gentleman that M. Ratichon was even now stand- 
ing before him, and begged him to take the trouble to 
pass through into my office. 

This he did, and I placed a chair in position for him. 
He sat down, having previously dusted the chair with a 
graceful sweep of his lace-edged handkerchief. Then he 
raised a gold-rimmed eyeglass to his right eye with a 
superlatively elegant gesture, and surveyed me critically 
for a moment or two ere he said: 

“I am told, my good M. Ratichon, that you are a trust- 
worthy fellow, and one who is willing to undertake a deli- 
cate piece of business for a moderate honorarium.” 


HONOUR AMONG 195 

Except for the fact that I did not like the word “mod- 
erate,’ ’ I was enchanted with him. 

“Rumour for once has not lied, Monsieur,” I replied 
in my most attractive manner. 

“Well,” he rejoined — I won’t say curtly, but with busi- 
nesslike brevity, “for all purposes connected with the affair 
which I desire to treat with you my name, as far as you 
are concerned, shall be Jean Duval. Understand?” 

“Perfectly, Monsieur le Marquis,” I replied with a 
bland smile. 

It was a wild guess, but I don’t think that I under- 
estimated my new client’s rank, for he did not wince. 

“You know Mile. Mars?” he queried. 

“The actress?” I replied. “Perfectly.” 

“She is playing in Le Reve at the Theatre Royal just 
now.” 

“She is.” 

“In the first and third acts of the play she wears a gold 
bracelet set with large green stones.” 

“I noticed it the other night. I had a seat in the par- 
terre, I may say.” 

“I want that bracelet,” broke in the soidisant Jean Duval 
unceremoniously. “The stones are false, the gold strass. 
I admire Mile. Mars immensely. I dislike seeing her 
wearing false jewellery. I wish to have the bracelet copied 
in real stones, and to present it to her as a surprise on the 
occasion of the twenty-fifth performance of Le Reve. It 
will cost me a king’s ransom, and her, for the time being, 
an infinite amount of anxiety. She sets great store by the 
valueless trinket solely because of the merit of its design, 


196 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


and I want its disappearance to have every semblance of 
a theft. All the greater will be the lovely creature’s 
pleasure when, at my hands, she will receive an infinitely 
precious jewel the exact counterpart in all save its intrinsic 
value of the trifle which she had thought lost.” 

It all sounded deliciously romantic. A flavour of the 
past century — before the endless war and abysmal poverty 
had killed all chivalry in us — clung to this proposed trans- 
action. There was nothing of the roturier, nothing of a 
Jean Duval, in this polished man of the world who had 
thought out this subtle scheme for ingratiating himself in 
the eyes of his lady fair. 

I murmured an appropriate phrase, placing my services 
entirely at M. le Marquis’s disposal, and once more he 
broke in on my polished diction with that brusquerie which 
betrayed the man accustomed to be silently obeyed. 

“Mile. Mars wears the bracelet/’ he said, “during the 
third act oi Le Reve. At the end of the act she enters her 
dressing-room, and her maid helps her to change her 
dress. During this entr’acte Mademoiselle with her own 
hands puts by all the jewellery which she has to wear dur- 
ing the more gorgeous scenes of the play. In the last 
act — the finale of the tragedy — she appears in a plain 
stuff gown, whilst all her jewellery reposes in the small 
iron safe in her dressing-room. It is while Mademoiselle 
is on the stage during the last act that I want you to enter 
her dressing-room and to extract the bracelet out of the 
safe for me.” 

“I, M. le Marquis?” I stammered. “I, to steal. a ” 

“Firstly, M. — er — er — Ratichon, or whatever your con- 


HONOUR AMONG— 197 

founded name may be,” interposed my client with inim- 
itable hauteur, “understand that my name is Jean Duval, 
and if you forget this again I shall be under the necessity 
of laying my cane across your shoulders and incidentally 
to take my business elsewhere. Secondly, let me tell you 
that your affectations of outraged probity are lost on me, 
seeing that I know all about the stolen treaty which ” 

“Enough, M. Jean Duval,” I said with a dignity equal, 
if not greater, than his own; “do not, I pray you, misun- 
derstand me. I am ready to do you service. But if you 
will deign to explain how I am to break open an iron safe 
inside a crowded building and extract therefrom a trinket, 
without being caught in the act and locked up for house- 
breaking and theft, I shall be eternally your debtor.” 

“The extracting of the trinket is your affair,” he re- 
joined dryly. “I will give you five hundred francs if 
you bring the bracelet to me within fourteen days.” 

“But ” I stammered again. 

“Your task will not be such a difficult one after all. I 
will give you the duplicate key of the safe.” 

He dived into the breast pocket of his coat, and drew 
from it a somewhat large and clumsy key, which he placed 
upon my desk. 

“I managed to get that easily enough,” he said non- 
chalantly, “a couple of nights ago, when I had the honour 
of visiting Mademoiselle in her dressing-room. A piece 
of wax in my hand, Mademoiselle’s momentary absorp- 
tion in her reflection while her maid was doing her hair, 
and the impression of the original key was in my posses- 
sion. But between taking a model of the key and the 


198 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


actual theft of the bracelet out of the safe there is a 
wide gulf which a gentleman cannot bridge over. There- 
fore, I choose to employ you, M. — er — er — Ratichon, to 
complete the transaction for me.” 

“For five hundred francs?” I queried blandly. 

“It is a fair sum,” he argued. 

“Make it a thousand,” I rejoined firmly, “and you shall 
have the bracelet within fourteen days.” 

He paused a moment in order to reflect; his steel-grey 
eyes, cool and disdainful, were fixed searchingly on my 
face. I pride myself on the way that I bear that kind of 
scrutiny, so even now I looked bland and withal purpose- 
ful and capable. 

“Very well,” he said, after a few moments, and he rose 
from his chair as he spoke ; “it shall be a thousand francs, 
M. — er — er — Ratichon, and I will hand over The money 
to you in exchange for the bracelet — but it must be done 
within fourteen days, remember.” 

I tried to induce him to give me a small sum on ac- 
count. I was about to take terrible risks, remember; 
housebreaking, larceny, theft — call it what you will, it 
meant the police correctionelle and a couple of years in 
New Orleans for sure. He finally gave me fifty francs, 
and once more threatened to take his business elsewhere, 
so I had to accept and to look as urbane and dignified as I 
could. 

He was out of the office and about to descend the stairs 
when a thought struck me. 

“Where and how can I communicate with M. Jean 
Duval,” I asked, “when my work is done?” 


HONOUR AMONG 


199 


“I will call here,” he replied, “at ten o’clock of every 
morning that follows a performance of Le Reve. We can 
complete our transaction then across your office desk.” 

The next moment he was gone. Theodore passed him 
on the stairs and asked me, with one of his impertinent 
leers, whether we had a new client and what we might 
expect from him. I shrugged my shoulders. “A new 
client!” I said disdainfully. “Bah! Vague promises of 
a couple of louis for finding out if Madame his wife sees 
more of a certain captain of the guards than Monsieur the 
husband cares about.” 

Theodore sniffed. He always sniffs when financial 
matters are on the tapis. 

“Anything on account?” he queried. 

“A paltry ten francs,” I replied, “and I may as well 
give you your share of it now.” 

I tossed a franc to him across the desk. By the terms 
of my contract with him, you understand, he was entitled 
to ten per cent, of every profit accruing from the business 
in lieu of wages, but in this instance do you not think that 
I was justified in looking on one franc now, and perhaps 
twenty when the transaction was completed, as a more 
than just honorarium for his share in it? Was I not 
taking all the risks in this delicate business? Would it 
be fair for me to give him a hundred francs for sitting 
quietly in the office or sipping absinthe at a neighbouring 
bar whilst I risked New Orleans — not to speak of the 
gallows ? 

He gave me a strange look as he picked up the silver 
franc, spat on it for luck, bit it with his great yellow teeth 


£00 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


to ascertain if it were counterfeit or genuine, and finally 
slipped it into his pocket, and shuffled out of the office 
whistling through his teeth. 

An abominably low, deceitful creature, that Theodore, 
you will see anon. But I won’t anticipate. 

§ 2 

The next performance of Le Reve was announced for 
the following evening, and I started on my campaign. As 
you may imagine, it did not prove an easy matter. To 
obtain access through the stage-door to the back of the 
theatre was one thing — a franc to the doorkeeper had done 
the trick — to mingle with the scene-shifters, to talk with 
the supers, to take off my hat with every form of deep 
respect to the principals had been equally simple. 

I had even succeeded in placing a bouquet on the dress- 
ing-table of the great tragedienne on my second visit to 
the theatre. Her dressing-room door had been left ajar 
during that memorable fourth act which was to see the 
consummation of my labours. I had the bouquet in my 
hand, having brought it expressly for that purpose. I 
pushed open the door, and found myself face to face with 
a young though somewhat forbidding damsel, who per- 
emptorily demanded what my business might be. 

In order to minimise the risk of subsequent trouble, I 
had assumed the disguise of a middle-aged Angliche — 
red side-whiskers, florid complexion, a ginger-coloured 
wig plastered rigidly over the ears towards the temples, 
high stock collar, nankeen pantaloons, a patch over one 


HONOUR AMONG 


201 


eye and an eyeglass fixed in the other. My own sainted 
mother would never have known me. 

With becoming diffidence I explained in broken French 
that my deep though respectful admiration of Mile. Mars 
had prompted me to lay a floral tribute at her feet. I 
desired nothing more. 

The damsel eyed me coldly, though at the moment I 
was looking quite my best, diffident yet courteous, a per- 
fect gentleman of the old regime. Then she took the 
bouquet from me and put it down on the dressing-table. 

I fancied that she smiled, not unkindly, and I ventured 
to pass the time of day. She replied not altogether dis- 
approvingly. She sat down by the dressing-table and 
took up some needlework which she had obviously thrown 
aside on my arrival. Close by, on the floor, was a solid 
iron chest with huge ornamental hinges and a large 
escutcheon over the lock. It stood about a foot high and 
perhaps a couple of feet long. 

There was nothing else in the room that suggested a 
receptacle for jewellery ; this, therefore, was obviously the 
safe which contained the bracelet. At the self-same 
second my eyes alighted on a large and clumsy-looking key 
which lay upon the dressing-table, and my hand at once 
wandered instinctively to the pocket of my coat and 
closed convulsively on the duplicate one which the soi- 
disant Jean Duval had given me. 

I talked eloquently for a while. The damsel answered 
in monosyllables, but she sat unmoved at needlework, 
and after ten minutes or so I was forced to beat a retreat. 

I returned to the charge at the next performance of 


202 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


Le Reve, this time with a box of bonbons for the maid 
instead of the bouquet for the mistress. The damsel was 
quite amenable to a little conversation, quite willing that 
I should dally in her company. She munched the bon- 
bons and coquetted a little with me. But she went on 
stolidly with her needlework, and I could see that noth- 
ing would move her out of that room, where she had 
obviously been left in charge. 

Then I bethought me of Theodore. I realised that I 
could not carry this affair through successfully without his 
help. So I gave him a further five francs — as I said to 
him it was out of my own savings — and I assured him that 
a certain M. Jean Duval had promised me a couple of hun- 
dred francs when the business which he had entrusted to 
me was satisfactorily concluded. It was for this business 
— so I explained — that I required his help, and he seemed 
quite satisfied. 

His task was, of course, a very easy one. What a con- 
trast to the risk I was about to run ! Twenty -five francs, 
my dear Sir, just for knocking at the door of Mile. Mars’ 
dressing-room during the fourth act, whilst I was engaged 
in conversation with the attractive guardian of the iron 
safe, and to say in well-assumed, breathless tones: 

“Mademoiselle Mars has been taken suddenly unwell 
on the stage. Will her maid go to her at once ?” 

It was some little distance from the dressing-room to 
the wings — down a flight of ill-lighted stone stairs which 
demanded cautious ascent and descent. Theodore had 
orders to obstruct the maid during her progress as much 
as he could without rousing her suspicions. 


HONOUR AMONG 203 

I reckoned that she would be fully three minutes going, 
questioning, finding out that the whole thing was a hoax, 
and running back to the dressing-room — three minutes in 
which to open the chest, extract the bracelet and, inci- 
dentally, anything else of value there might be close to 
my hand. Well, I had thought of that eventuality, too; 
one must think of everything, you know — that is where 
genius comes in. Then, if possible, relock the safe, so 
that the maid, on her return, would find everything appar- 
ently in order and would not, perhaps, raise the alarm until 
I was safely out of the theatre. 

It could be done — oh, yes, it could be done — with a 
minute to spare ! And to-morrow at ten o’clock M. Jean 
Duval would appear, and I would not part with the brace- 
let until a thousand francs had passed from his pocket into 
mine. I must get Theodore out of the house, by the way, 
before the arrival of M. Duval. 

A thousand francs ! I had not seen a thousand francs 
all at once for years. What a dinner I would have to- 
morrow ! There was a certain little restaurant in the Rue 
des Pipots where they concocted a cassolette of goose 
liver and pork chops with haricot beans which . . . ! I 
only tell you that. 

How I got through the rest of that day I cannot tell 
you. The evening found me — quite an habitue now — 
behind the stage of the Theatre Royal, nodding to one or 
two acquaintances, most of the people looking on me with 
grave respect and talking of me as the eccentric milor. I 
was supposed to be pining for an introduction to the great 


204 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


tragedienne, who, very exclusive as usual, had so far 
given me the cold shoulder. 

Ten minutes after the rise of the curtain on the fourth 
act I was in the dressing-room, presenting the maid with 
a gold locket which I had bought from a cheapjack’s 
barrow for five and twenty francs — almost the last of the 
fifty which I had received from M. Duval on account. 
The damsel was eyeing the locket somewhat disdainfully 
and giving me grudging thanks for it when there came a 
hurried knock at the door. The next moment Theodore 
poked his ugly face into the room. He, too, had taken 
the precaution of assuming an excellent disguise — peaked 
cap set aslant over one eye, grimy face, the blouse of a 
scene-shifter. 

“Mile. Mars,” he gasped breathlessly; “she has been 
taken ill — on the stage — very suddenly. She is in the 
wings — asking for her maid. They think she will faint.” 

The damsel rose, visibly frightened. 

‘Til come at once,” she said, and without the slightest 
flurry she picked up the key of the safe and slipped it 
into her pocket. I fancied that she gave me a look as she 
did this. Oh, she was a pearl among Abigails! Then 
she pointed unceremoniously to the door. 

“Milor!” was all she said, but of course I understood. 
I had no idea that English milors could be thus treated 
by pert maidens. But what cared I for social amenities 
just then? My hand had closed over the duplicate key 
of the safe, and I walked out of the room in the wake 
of the damsel. Theodore had disappeared. 

Once in the passage, the girl started to run. A second 


HONOUR AMONG 205 

or two later I heard the patter of her high-heeled shoes 
down the stone stairs. I had not a moment to lose. 

To slip back into the dressing-room was but an in- 
stant’s work. The next I was kneeling in front of the 
chest. The key fitted the lock accurately; one turn, and 
the lid flew open. 

The chest was filled with a miscellaneous collection of 
theatrical properties all lying loose — showy necklaces, 
chains, pendants, all of them obviously false; but lying 
beneath them, and partially hidden by the meretricious 
ornaments, were one or two boxes covered with velvet 
such as jewellers use. My keen eyes noted these at once. 
I was indeed in luck! For the moment, however, my 
hand fastened on a leather case which reposed on the top 
in one corner, and which very obviously, from its shape, 
contained a bracelet. My hands did not tremble, though I 
was quivering with excitement. I opened the case. 
There, indeed, was the bracelet — the large green stones, 
the magnificent gold setting, the whole jewel dazzlingly 
beautiful. If it were real — the thought flashed through 
my mind — it would be indeed priceless. I closed the case 
and put it on the dressing-table beside me. I had at least 
another minute to spare — sixty seconds wherein to dive 

for those velvet-covered boxes which My hand was 

on one of them when a slight noise caused me suddenly to 
turn and to look behind me. It all happened as quickly as 
a flash of lightning. I just saw a man disappearing 
through the door. One glance at the dressing-table 
showed me the whole extent of my misfortune. The case 
containing the bracelet had gone, and at that precise 


20 6 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


moment I heard a commotion from the direction of the 
stairs and a woman screaming at the top of her voice: 
“Thief! Stop thief!” 

Then, Sir, I brought upon the perilous situation that 
presence of mind for which the name of Hector Ratichon 
will for ever remain famous. Without a single flurried 
movement, I slipped one of the velvet-covered cases which 
I still had in my hand into the breast pocket of my coat, 
I closed down the lid of the iron chest and locked it with 
the duplicate key, and I went out of the room, closing 
the door behind me. 

The passage was dark. The damsel was running up 
the stairs with a couple of stage hands behind her. She 
was explaining to them volubly, and to the accompani- 
ment of sundry half-hysterical little cries, the infamous 
hoax to which she had fallen a victim. You might think, 
Sir, that here was I caught like a rat in a trap, and with 
that velvet-covered case in my breast pocket by way of 
damning evidence against me ! 

Not at all, Sir! Not at all! Not so is Hector Rat- 
ichon, the keenest secret agent France has ever known, 
the confidant of kings, brought to earth by an untoward 
move of fate. Even before the damsel and the stage 
hands had reached the top of the stairs and turned into 
the corridor, which was on my left, I had slipped round 
noiselessly to my right and found shelter in a narrow 
doorway, where I was screened by the surrounding dark- 
ness and by a projection of the frame. While the three 
of them made straight for Mademoiselle’s dressing-room, 
and spent some considerable time there in uttering varied 


HONOUR AMONG 


207 


ejaculations when they found the place and the chest to all 
appearances untouched, I slipped out of my hiding-place, 
sped rapidly along the corridor, and was soon half-way 
down the stairs. 

Here my habitual composure in the face of danger stood 
me in good stead. It enabled me to walk composedly and 
not too hurriedly through the crowd behind the scenes — 
supers, scene-shifters, principals, none of whom seemed 
to be aware as yet of the hoax practised on Mademoiselle 
Mars’ maid; and I reckon that I was out of the stage door 
exactly five minutes after Theodore had called the damsel 
away. 

But I was minus the bracelet, and in my mind there was 
the firm conviction that that traitor Theodore had played 
me one of his abominable tricks. As I said, the whole 
thing had occurred as quickly as a flash of lightning, but 
even so my keen, experienced eyes had retained the im- 
pression of a peaked cap and the corner of a blue blouse 
as they disappeared through the dressing-room door. 

§ 3 

Tact, wariness and strength were all required, you must 
admit, in order to deal with the present delicate situation. 
I was speeding along the Rue de Richelieu on my way to 
my office. My intention was to spend the night there, 
where I had a chair-bedstead on which I had oft before 
slept soundly after a day’s hard work, and anyhow it 
was too late to go to my lodgings at Passy at this hour. 

Moreover, Theodore slept in the antechamber of the 


208 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


office, and I was more firmly convinced than ever that it 
was he who had stolen the bracelet. “Blackleg ! Thief ! 
Traitor!” I mused. “But thou hast not done with Hec- 
tor Ratichon yet.” 

In the meanwhile I bethought me of the velvet-covered 
box in my breast pocket, and of the ginger-coloured hair 
and whiskers that I was still wearing, and which might 
prove an unpleasant “piece de conviction” in case the 
police were after the stolen bracelet. 

With a view to examining the one and getting rid of 
the other, I turned into the Square Louvois, which, as 
usual, was very dark and wholly deserted. Here I took 
off my wig and whiskers and threw them over the railings 
into the garden. Then I drew the velvet-covered box 
from my pocket, opened it, and groped for its contents. 
Imagine my feelings, my dear Sir, when I realised that the 
case was empty ! Fate was indeed against me that night. 
I had been fooled and cheated by a traitor, and had risked 
New Orleans and worse for an empty box. 

For a moment I must confess that I lost that im- 
perturbable sang-froid which is the admiration of all my 
friends, and with a genuine oath I flung the case over the 
railings in the wake of the milor’s hair and whiskers. 
Then I hurried home. 

Theodore had not returned. He did not come in until 
the small hours of the morning, and then he was in a 
state that I can only describe, with your permission, as 
hoggish. He could hardly speak. I had him at my 
mercy. Neither tact nor wariness was required for the 
moment. I stripped him to his skin ; he only laughed like 


HONOUR AMONG 


209 


an imbecile. His eyes had a horrid squint in them; he 
was hideous. I found five francs in one of his pockets, 
but neither in his clothes nor on his person did I find the 
bracelet. 

“What have you done with it?” I cried, for by this 
time I was maddened with rage. 

“I don't know what you are talking about!” he stam- 
mered thickly, as he tottered towards his bed. “Give me 
back my five francs, you thief!” the brutish creature 
finally blurted out ere he fell into a hog-like sleep. 

§ 4 

Desperate evils need desperate remedies. I spent the 
rest of the night thinking hard. By the time that dawn 
was breaking my mind was made up. Theodore’s 
stertorous breathing assured me that he was still in- 
sentient. I was muscular in those days, and he a meagre, 
attenuated, drink-sodden creature. I lifted him out of 
his bed in the antechamber and carried him into mine in 
the office. I found a coil of rope, and strapped him 
tightly in the chair-bedstead so that he could not move. I 
tied a scarf round his mouth so that he could not scream. 
Then, at six o’clock, when the humbler eating-houses begin 
to take down their shutters, I went out. 

I had Theodore’s five francs in my pocket, and I was 
desperately hungry. I spent ten sous on a cup of coffee 
and a plate of fried onions and haricot beans, and three 
francs on a savoury pie, highly flavoured with garlic, and 
a quarter-bottle of excellent cognac. I drank the coffee 


210 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


and ate the onions and the beans, and I took the pie and 
cognac home. 

I placed a table close to the chair-bedstead and on it I 
disposed the pie and the cognac in such a manner that the 
moment Theodore woke his eyes were bound to alight on 
them. Then I waited. I absolutely ached to have a taste 
of that pie myself, it smelt so good, but I waited. 

Theodore woke at nine o’clock. He struggled like a 
fool, but he still appeared half dazed. No doubt he 
thought that he was dreaming. Then I sat down on the 
edge of the bed and cut myself off a large piece of the 
pie. I ate it with marked relish in front of Theodore, 
whose eyes nearly started out of their sockets. Then I 
brewed myself a cup of coffee. The mingled odour of 
coffee and garlic filled the room. It was delicious. I 
thought that Theodore would have a fit. The veins stood 
out on his forehead and a kind of gurgle came from be- 
hind the scarf round his mouth. Then I told him he 
could partake of the pie and coffee if he told me what he 
had done with the bracelet. He shook his head furiously, 
and I left the pie, the cognac and the coffee on the table 
before him and went into the antechamber, closing the 
office door behind me, and leaving him to meditate on his 
treachery. 

What I wanted to avoid above everything was the 
traitor meeting M. Jean Duval. He had the bracelet — 
of that I was as convinced as that I was alive. But what 
could he do with a piece of false jewellery? He could 
not dispose of it, save to a vendor of theatrical prop- 
erties, who no doubt was well acquainted with the trinket 


HONOUR AMONG 


211 


and would not give more than a couple of francs for what 
was obviously stolen property. After all, I had promised 
Theodore twenty francs ; he would not be such a fool as 
to sell that birthright for a mess of pottage and the sole 
pleasure of doing me a bad turn. 

There was no doubt in my mind that he had put the 
thing away somewhere in what he considered a safe 
place pending a reward being offered by Mile. Mars for 
the recovery of the bracelet. The more I thought of this 
the more convinced I was that that was, indeed, his pro- 
posed plan of action — oh, how I loathed the blackleg! — 
and mine henceforth would be to dog his every footstep 
and never let him out of my sight until I forced him to 
disgorge his ill-gotten booty. 

At ten o’clock M. Jean Duval arrived, as was his wont, 
supercilious and brusque as usual. I was just explaining 
to him that I hoped to have excellent news for him after 
the next performance of Le Reve when there was a per- 
emptory ring at the bell. I went to open the door, and 
there stood a police inspector in uniform with a sheaf 
of papers in his hand. 

Now, I am not over-fond of our Paris police ; they poke 
their noses in where they are least wanted. Their in- 
competence favours the machinations of rogues and frus- 
trates the innocent ambitions of the just. However, in 
this instance the inspector looked amiable enough, though 
his manner, I must say, was, as usual, unpleasantly curt. 

“Here, Ratichon,” he said, “there has been an impu- 
dent theft of a valuable bracelet out of Mademoiselle 
Mars’ dressing-room at the Theatre Royal last night. 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


212 

You and your mate frequent all sorts of places of ill-fame ; 
you may hear something of the affair.” 

I chose to ignore the insult, and the inspector detached 
a paper from the sheaf which he held and threw it across 
the table to me. 

“There is a reward of two thousand five hundred 
francs,” he said, “for the recovery of the bracelet. You 
will find on that paper an accurate description of the 
jewel. It contains the celebrated Maroni emerald, pre- 
sented to the ex-Emperor by the Sultan, and given by 
him to Mile. Mars.” 

Whereupon he turned unceremoniously on his heel and 
went, leaving me face to face with the man who had so 
shamefully tried to swindle me. I turned, and resting my 
elbow on the table and my chin in my hand, I looked 
mutely on the soi-disant Jean Duval and equally mutely 
pointed with an accusing finger to the description of the 
famous bracelet which he had declared to me was merely 
strass and base metal. 

Rut he had the impudence to turn on me before I could 
utter a syllable. 

“Where is the bracelet?” he demanded. “You con- 
summate liar, you ! Where is it ? You stole it last night ! 
What have you done with it ?” 

“I extracted, at your request,” I replied with as much 
dignity as I could command, “a piece of theatrical jewel- 
lery, which you stated to me to be worthless, out of an 
iron chest, the key of which you placed in mv hands. 
I . . ” 


HONOUR AMONG 


213 

“Enough of this rubbish ! ” he broke in roughly. “You 
have the bracelet. Give it me now, or . . .” 

He broke off and looked somewhat alarmed in the 
direction of the office door, from the other side of which 
there had just come a loud crash, followed by loud, if 
unintelligible, vituperation. What had happened I could 
not guess; all that I could do was to carry off the situa- 
tion as boldly as I dared. 

“You shall have the bracelet, Sir,” I said in my most 
suave manner. “You shall have it, but not unless you 
will pay me three thousand francs for it. I can get two 
thousand five hundred by taking it straight to Mile. 
Mars.” 

“And be taken up by the police for stealing it,” he re- 
torted. “How will you explain its being in your pos- 
session?” 

I did not blanch. 

“That is my affair,” I replied. “Will you give me 
three thousand francs for it? It is worth sixty thousand 
francs to a clever thief like you.” 

“You hound!” he cried, livid with rage, and raised 
his cane as if he would strike me. 

“Aye, it was cleverly done, M. Jean Duval, whoever 
you may be. I know that the gentleman-thief is a mod- 
ern product of the old regime, but I did not know that 
the fraternity could show such a fine specimen as your- 
self. Pay Hector Ratichon a thousand francs for steal- 
ing a bracelet for you worth sixty! Indeed, M. Jean 
Duval, you deserved to succeed !” 

Again he shook his cane at me. 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


214 

“If you touch me,” I declared boldly, “I shall take 
the bracelet at once to Mile. Mars.” 

He bit his lip and made a great effort to pull himself 
together. 

“I haven’t three thousand francs by me,” he said. 

“Go, fetch the money,” I retorted, “and I’ll fetch the 
bracelet.” 

He demurred for a while, but I was firm, and after 
he had threatened to thrash me, to knock me down, and 
to denounce me to the police, he gave in and went to 
fetch the money. 

§ 5 

When I remembered Theodore — Theodore, whom only 
a thin partition wall had separated from the full knowl- 
edge of the value of his ill-gotten treasure ! — I could have 
torn my hair out by the roots with the magnitude of 
my rage. He, the traitor, the blackleg, was about to 
triumph, where I, Hector Ratichon, had failed! He had 
but to take the bracelet to Mile. Mars himself and ob- 
tain the munificent reward whilst I, after I had taken 
so many risks and used all the brains and tact where- 
with Nature had endowed me, would be left with the 
meagre remnants of the fifty francs which M. Jean Duval 
had so grudgingly thrown to me. Twenty-five francs for 
a gold locket, ten francs for a bouquet, another ten for 
bonbons, and five for gratuities to the stage-doorkeeper! 
Make the calculation, my good Sir, and see what I had 
left. If it had not been for the five francs which I had 
found in Theodore’s pocket last night, I would at this 


HONOUR AMONG 


215 


moment not only have been breakfastless, but also abso- 
lutely penniless. 

As it was, my final hope — and that a meagre one — 
was to arouse one spark of honesty in the breast of the 
arch-traitor, and either by cajolery or threats, to induce 
him to share his ill-gotten spoils with me. 

I had left him snoring and strapped to the chair-bed- 
stead, and when I opened the office door I was marvelling 
in my mind whether I could really bear to see him dying 
slowly of starvation with that savoury pie tantalizingly 
under his nose. The crash which I had heard a few 
minutes ago prepared me for a change of scene. Even 
so, I confess that the sight which I beheld glued me to 
the threshold. There sat Theodore at the table, finishing 
the last morsel of pie, whilst the chair-bedstead lay in a 
tangled heap upon the floor. 

I cannot tell you how nasty he was to me about the 
whole thing, although I showed myself at once ready to 
forgive him all his lies and his treachery, and was at great 
pains to explain to him how I had given up my own bed 
and strapped him into it solely for the benefit of his 
health, seeing that at the moment he was threatened with 
delirium tremens. 

He would not listen to reason or to the most elementary 
dictates of friendship. Having poured the vials of his 
bilious temper over my devoted head, he became as per- 
verse and as obstinate as a mule. With the most con- 
summate impudence I ever beheld in any human being, 
he flatly denied all knowledge of the bracelet. 

Whilst I talked he stalked past me into the ante- 


216 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


chamber, where he at once busied himself in collecting 
all his goods and chattels. These he stuffed into his 
pockets until he appeared to be bulging all over his ugly 
body ; then he went to the door ready to go out. On the 
threshold he turned and gave me a supercilious glance 
over his shoulder. 

“Take note, my good Ratichon,” he said, “that our 
partnership is dissolved as from to-morrow, the twen- 
tieth day of September.” 

“As from this moment, you infernal scoundrel!” I 
cried. 

But he did not pause to listen, and slammed the door 
in my face. 

For two or three minutes I remained quite still, whilst 
I heard the shuffling footsteps slowly descending the 
corridor. Then I followed him, quietly, surreptitiously, 
as a fox will follow its prey. He never turned round 
once, but obviously he knew that he was being followed. 

I will not weary you, my dear Sir, with the details of 
the dance which he led me in and about Paris during the 
whole of that memorable day. Never a morsel passed 
my lips from breakfast to long after sundown. He tried 
every trick known to the profession to throw me off the 
scent. But I stuck to him like a leech. When he saun- 
tered I sauntered; when he ran I ran; when he glued 
his nose to the window of an eating house I halted under 
a doorway close by; when he went to sleep on a bench 
in the Luxembourg Gardens I watched over him as a 
mother over a babe. 

Towards evening — it was an hour after sunset and the 


HONOUR AMONG 


317 


street-lamps were just being lighted — he must have 
thought that he had at last got rid of me; for, after 
looking carefully behind him, he suddenly started to walk 
much faster and with an amount of determination which 
he had lacked hitherto. I marvelled if he was not making 
for the Rue Daunou, where was situated the squalid 
tavern of ill-fame which he was wont to frequent. I was 
not mistaken. 

I tracked the traitor to the corner of the street, and 
saw him disappear beneath the doorway of the Taverne 
des Trois Tigres. I resolved to follow. I had money in 
my pocket — about twenty-five sous — and I was mightily 
thirsty. I started to run down the street, when sud- 
denly Theodore came rushing back out of the tavern, 
hatless and breathless, and before I succeeded in dodging 
him he fell into my arms. 

“My money!” he said hoarsely. “I must have my 
money at once! You thief! You . . .” 

Once again my presence of mind stood me in good 
stead. 

“Pull yourself together, Theodore,” I said with much 
dignity, “and do not make a scene in the open street.” 

But Theodore was not at all prepared to pull himself 
together. He was livid with rage. 

“I had five francs in my pocket last night!” he cried. 
“You have stolen them, you abominable rascal!” 

“And you stole from me a bracelet worth three thou- 
sand francs to the firm,” I retorted. “Give me that brace- 
let and you shall have your money back.” 

“I can’t,” he blurted out desperately. 


218 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


“How do you mean, you can’t ?” I exclaimed, whilst a 
horrible fear like an icy claw suddenly gripped at my 
heart. “You haven’t lost it, have you?” 

“Worse !” he cried, and fell up against me in semi-un- 
consciousness. 

I shook him violently. I bellowed in his ear, and sud- 
denly, after that one moment of apparent unconscious- 
ness, he became, not only wide awake, but as strong as a 
lion and as furious as a bull. We closed in on one 
another. He hammered at me with his fists, calling me 
every kind of injurious name he could think of, and I 
had need of all my strength to ward off his attacks. 

For a few moments no one took much notice of us. 
Fracas and quarrels outside the drinking-houses in the 
mean streets of Paris were so frequent these days that 
the police did not trouble much about them. But after 
a while Theodore became so violent that I was forced 
to call vigorously for help. I thought he meant to mur- 
der me. People came rushing out of the tavern, and 
someone very officiously started whistling for the gen- 
darmes. This had the effect of bringing Theodore to his 
senses. Pie calmed down visibly, and before the crowd 
had had time to collect round us we had both sauntered 
off, walking in apparent amity side by side down the 
street. 

But at the first corner Theodore halted, and this time 
he confined himself to gripping me by the arm with one 
hand whilst with the other he grasped one of the buttons 
of my coat. 

“That five francs,” he said in a hoarse, half-choked 


HONOUR AMONG 219 

voice. “I must have that five francs ! Can't you see that 
I can’t have that bracelet till I have my five francs where- 
with to redeem it?” 

“To redeem it!” I gasped. I was indeed glad then 
that he held me by the arm, for it seemed to me as if I 
was falling down a yawning abyss which had opened at 
my feet. 

“Yes,” said Theodore, and his voice sounded as if it 
came from a great distance and through cotton-wool 
“I knew that you would be after that bracelet like a fam- 
ished hyena after a bone, so I tied it securely inside the 
pocket of the blouse I was wearing, and left this with 
Legros, the landlord of the Trois Tigres. It was a good 
blouse; he lent me five francs on it. Of course, he 
knew nothing about the bracelet then. But he only 
lends money to clients in this manner on the condition 
that it is repaid within twenty-four hours. I have got 
to pay him back before eight o’clock this evening or he 
will dispose of the blouse as he thinks best. It is close 
on eight o’clock now. Give me back my five francs, you 
confounded thief, before Legros has time to discover the 
bracelet! We’ll share the reward, I promise you. Faith 
of an honest man. You liar, you cheat, you ” 

What was the use of talking ? I had not got five francs. 
I had spent ten sous in getting myself some breakfast, 
and three francs in a savoury pie flavoured with garlic 
and in a quarter of a bottle of cognac. I groaned aloud. 
I had exactly twenty-five sous left. 

We went back to the tavern hoping against hope that 
Legros had not yet turned out the pockets of the blouse, 


220 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


and that we might induce him, by threat or cajolery or 
the usurious interest of twenty-five sous, to grant his 
client a further twenty-four hours wherein to redeem 
the pledge. 

One glance at the interior of the tavern, however, told 
us that all our hopes were in vain. Legros, the landlord, 
was even then turning the blouse over and over, whilst 
his hideous hag of a wife was talking to the police in- 
spector, who was showing her the paper that announced 
the offer of two thousand five hundred francs for the 
recovery of a valuable bracelet, the property of Mile. 
Mars, the distinguished tragedienne. 

We only waited one minute with our noses glued 
against the windows of the Trois Tigres, just long enough 
to see Legros extracting the leather case from the pocket 
of the blouse, just long enough to hear the police in- 
spector saying peremptorily : 

“You, Legros, ought to be able to let the police know 
who stole the bracelet. You must know who left that 
blouse with you last night.” 

Then we both fled incontinently down the street. 

Now, Sir, was I not right when I said that honour 
and loyalty are the essential qualities in our profession? 
If Theodore had not been such a liar and such a traitor, 
he and I, between us, would have been richer by three 
thousand francs that day. 


CHAPTER VII 


AN OVER-SENSITIVE HEART 

§ I 

N O doubt, Sir, that you have noticed during the 
course of our conversations that Nature has en- 
dowed me with an over-sensitive heart. I feel keenly, 
Sir, very keenly. Blows dealt me by Fate, or, as has 
been more often the case, by the cruel and treacherous 
hand of man, touch me on the raw. I suffer acutely. 
I am highly strung. I am one of those rare beings whom 
Nature pre-ordained for love and for happiness. I am 
an ideal family man. 

What? You did not know that I was married? In- 
deed, Sir, I am. And though Madame Ratichon does 
not perhaps fulfil all my ideals of exquisite womanhood, 
nevertheless she has been an able and willing helpmate 
during these last years of comparative prosperity. Yes, 
you see me fairly prosperous now. My industry, my 
genius — if I may so express myself — found their reward 
at last. You will be the first to acknowledge — you, the 
confidant of my life’s history — that that reward was fully 
deserved. I worked for it, toiled and thought and strug- 
gled, up to the last; and had Fate been just, rather than 
grudging, I should have attained that ideal which would 
have filled my cup of happiness to the brim. 

221 


222 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


But, anyway, the episode connected with my marriage 
did mark the close of my professional career, and is 
therefore worthy of record. Since that day, Sir — a happy 
one for me, a blissful one for Mme. Ratichon — I have 
been able, thanks to the foresight of an all- wise Provi- 
dence, to gratify my bucolic tastes. I live now, Sir, amidst 
my flowers, with my dog and my canary and Mme. 
Ratichon, smiling with kindly indulgence on the strug- 
gles and the blunders of my younger colleagues, oft con- 
sulted by them in matters that require special tact and 
discretion. I sit and dream now beneath the shade of a 
vine-clad arbour of those glorious days of long ago, when 
kings and emperors placed the destiny of their inheritance 
in my hands, when autocrats and dictators came to me 
for assistance and advice, and the name of Hector Rati- 
chon stood for everything that was most astute and most 
discreet. And if at times a gentle sigh of regret escapes 
my lips, Mme. Ratichon — whose thinness is ever my 
despair, for I admire comeliness, Sir, as being more 
womanly — Mme. Ratichon, I say, comes to me with the 
gladsome news that dinner is served; and though she is 
not all that I could wish in the matter of the culinary arts, 
yet she can fry a cutlet passably, and one of her brothers 
is a wholesale wine merchant of excellent reputation. 

It was soon after my connexion with that abominable 
Marquis de Firmin-Latour that I first made the acquaint- 
ance of the present Mme. Ratichon, under somewhat pe- 
culiar circumstances. 

I remember it was on the first day of April in the year 
1817 that M. Rochez — Fernand Rochez was his exact 


AN OVER-SENSITIVE HEART 


name — came to see me at my office in the Rue Daunou, 
and the date proved propitious, as you will presently see. 
How M. Rochez came to know of my gifts and powers, I 
cannot tell you. He never would say. He had heard of 
me through a friend, was all that he vouchsafed to say. 

Theodore had shown him in. Ah! have I not men- 
tioned the fact that I had forgiven Theodore his lies and 
his treachery, and taken him back to my bosom and to 
my board? My sensitive heart had again got the better 
of my prudence, and Theodore was installed once more 
in the antechamber of my apartments in the Rue Daunou, 
and was, as heretofore, sharing with me all the good 
things that I could afford. So there he was on duty on 
that fateful first of April which was destined to be the 
turning-point of my destiny. And he showed M. de 
Rochez in. 

At once I knew my man — the type, I mean. Immacu- 
lately dressed, scented and be frilled, haughty of manner 
and nonchalant of speech, M. Rochez had the word “ad- 
venturer’' writ all over his well-groomed person. He was 
young, good-looking, his nails were beautifully polished, 
his pantaloons fitted him without a wrinkle. These were 
of a soft putty shade; his coat was bottle-green, and his 
hat of the latest modish shape. A perfect exquisite, in 
fact. 

And he came to the point without much preamble. 

“M. — er — Ratichon,” he said, “I have heard of you 
through a friend, who tells me that you are the most 
unscrupulous scoundrel he has ever come across.” 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


‘‘Sir !” I began, rising from my seat in indignant 

protest at the coarse insult. 

But with an authoritative gesture he checked the flow 
of my indignation. 

“No comedy, I pray you, Sir,” he said. “We are 
not at the Theatre Moliere, but, I presume, in an office 
where business is transacted both briefly and with dis- 
cretion.” 

“At your service, Monsieur,” I replied. 

“Then listen, will you?” he went on curtly, “and pray 
do not interrupt. Only speak in answer to a question 
from me.” 

I bowed my head in silence. Thus must the proud 
suffer when they happen to be sparsely endowed with 
riches. 

“You have no doubt heard of Mile. Goldberg,” M. 
Rochez continued after a moment’s pause, “the lovely 
daughter of the rich usurer in the Rue des Medecins.” 

I had heard of Mile. Goldberg. Her beauty and her 
father’s wealth were reported to be fabulous. I indicated 
my knowledge of the beautiful lady by a mute inclination 
of the head. 

“I love Mile. Goldberg,” my client resumed, “and I 
have reason for the belief that I am not altogether in- 
different to her. Glances, you understand, from eyes as 
expressive as those of the exquisite Jewess speak more 
eloquently than words.” 

He had forbidden me to speak, so I could only express 
concurrence in the sentiments which he expressed by a 
slight elevation of my left eyebrow. 


AN OVER-SENSITIVE HEART 


225 


“I am determined to win the affections of Mile. Gold- 
berg,” M. Rochez went on glibly, “and equally am I de- 
termined to make her my wife.” 

“A very natural determination,” I remarked involun- 
tarily. 

“My only trouble with regard to pressing my court is 
the fact that my lovely Leah is never allowed outside her 
father’s house, save in his company or that of his sister 
— an old maid of dour mien and sour disposition, who acts 
the part of a duenna with dog-like tenacity. Over and 
over again have I tried to approach the lady of my heart, 
only to be repelled or roughly rebuked for my insolence 
by her irascible old aunt.” 

“You are not the first lover, Sir,” I remarked drily, 
“who hath seen obstacles thus thrown in his way, 
and ” 

“One moment, M. — er — Ratichon,” he broke in sharp- 
ly. “I have not finished. I will not attempt to describe 
my feelings to you. I have been writhing — yes, writhing ! 
— in face of those obstacles of which you speak so lightly, 
and for a long time I have been cudgelling my brains 
as to the possible means whereby I might approach my 
divinity unchecked. Then one day I bethought me of 
you ” 

“Of me, Sir?” I ejaculated, sorely puzzled. “Why of 
me?” 

“None of my friends,” he replied nonchalantly, “would 
care to undertake so scrubby a task as I would assign 
to you.” 


226 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


“I pray you to be more explicit/’ I retorted with un- 
impaired dignity. 

Once more he paused. Obviously he was a born 
mountebank, and he calculated all his effects to a nicety. 

“You, M. — er — Ratichon,” he said curtly at last, “will 
have to take the duenna off my hands.” 

I was beginning to understand. So I let him prattle 
on the while my busy brain was already at work evolving 
the means to render this man service, which in its turn 
I expected to be amply repaid. Thus I cannot repeat 
exactly all that he said, for 1 was only listening with half 
an ear. But the substance of it all was this : I was to pose 
as the friend of M. Fernand Rochez, and engage the at- 
tention of Mile. Goldberg senior the while he paid his 
court to the lovely Leah. It was not a repellent task 
altogether, because M. Rochez’s suggestion opened a vista 
of pleasant parties at open-air cafes, with foaming tank- 
ards of beer, on warm afternoons the while the young 
people sipped sirops and fed on love. My newly found 
friend was pleased to admit that my personality and ap- 
pearance would render my courtship of the elderly duenna 
a comparatively easy one. She would soon, he declared, 
fall a victim to my charms. 

After which the question of remuneration came in, and 
over this we did not altogether agree. Ultimately I de- 
cided to accept an advance of two hundred francs and a 
new suit of clothes, which I at once declared was indis- 
pensable under the circumstances, seeing that in my well- 
worn coat I might have the appearance of a fortune- 
hunter in the eyes of the suspicious old dame. 


AN OVER SENSITIVE HEART 


227 

Within my mind I envisaged the possibility of touching 
M. Rochez for a further two hundred francs if and when 
opportunity arose. 


i 2 

The formal introduction took place on the boulevards 
one fine afternoon shortly after that. Mile. Leah was 
walking under the trees with her duenna when we — M. 
Rochez and I — came face to face with them. My friend 
raised his hat, and I did likewise. Mademoiselle Leah 
blushed and the ogre frowned. Sir, she was an ogre ! — 
bony and angular and hook-nosed, with thin lips that 
closed with a snap, and cold grey eyes that sent a shiver 
down your spine ! Rochez introduced me to her, and I 
made myself exceedingly agreeable to her, while my friend 
succeeded in exchanging two or three whispered words 
with his inamorata. 

But we did not get very far that day. Mile. Goldberg 
senior soon marched her lovely charge away. 

Ah, Sir, she was lovely indeed! And in my heart I 
not only envied Rochez his good fortune but I also felt 
how entirely unworthy he was of it. Nor did the beauti- 
ful Leah give me the impression of being quite so deeply 
struck with his charms as he would have had me believe. 
Indeed, it struck me during those few minutes that X 
stood dutifully talking to her duenna that the fair young 
Jewess cast more than one approving glance in my direc- 
tion. 

Be that as it may, the progress of our respective court- 
ships, now that the ice was broken, took on a more de- 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


cided turn. At first it only amounted to meetings on the 
boulevards and a cursory greeting, but soon Mile. Gold- 
berg senior, delighted with my conversation, would delib- 
erately turn to walk with me under the trees the while 
Fernand Rochez followed by the side of his adored. A 
week later the ladies accepted my friend’s offer to sit under 
the awning of the Cafe Bourbon and to sip sirops, whilst 
we indulged in tankards of foaming “blondes.” 

Within a fortnight, Sir — I may say it without boasting 
— I had Mile. Goldberg senior in the hollow of my hand. 
On the boulevards, as soon as she caught sight of me, her 
dour face would be wreathed in smiles, a row of large 
yellow teeth would appear between her thin lips, and her 
cold, grey eyes would soften with a glance of welcome 
which more than ever sent a cold shudder down my spine. 
While we four were together, either promenading or sit- 
ting at open-air cafes in the cool of the evening, the old 
duenna had eyes and ears only for me, and if my friend 
Rochez did not get on with his own courtship as fast as 
he would have wished the fault rested entirely with him. 

For he did not get on with his courtship, and that was 
a fact. The fair Leah was very sweet, very coy, greatly 
amused, I fancy, at her aunt’s obvious infatuation for me, 
and not a little flattered at the handsome M. Rochez’s 
attentions to herself. But there it all ended. And when- 
ever I questioned Rochez on the subject, he flew into a 
temper and consigned all middle-aged Jewesses to perdi- 
tion, and all the lovely and young ones to a comfortable 
kind of Hades to which he alone amongst the male sex 
would have access. From which I gathered that I was 


AN OYER-SENSITIVE HEART 


229 


not wrong in my surmises, that the fair Leah had been 
smitten by my personality and my appearance rather than 
by those of my friend, and that he was suffering the pangs 
of an insane jealousy. 

This, of course, he never would admit. All that he 
told me one day was that Leah, with the characteristic 
timidity of her race, refused to marry him unless she 
could obtain her father’s consent to the union. Old Gold- 
berg, duly approached on the matter, flatly forbade his 
daughter to have anything further to do with that fortune- 
hunter, that parasite, that beggarly pick-thank — such, Sir, 
were but a few complimentary epithets which he hurled 
with great volubility at his daughter’s absent suitor. 

It was from Mile. Goldberg, senior, that my friend and 
I had the details of that stormy interview between father 
and daughter; after which, she declared that interviews 
between the lovers would necessarily become very difficult 
of arrangement. From which you will gather that the 
worthy soul, though she was as ugly as sin, was by this 
time on the side of the angels. Indeed, she was more than 
that. She professed herself willing to aid and abet them 
in every way she could. This Rochez confided to me, to- 
gether with his assurance that he was determined to take 
his Fate into his own hands and, since the beautiful Leah 
would not come to him of her own accord, to carry her 
off by force. 

Ah, my dear Sir, those were romantic days, you must 
remember ! Days when men placed the possession of the 
woman they loved above every treasure, every considera- 
tion upon earth. Ah, romance! Romance, Sir, was the 


230 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


breath of our nostrils, the blood in our veins! Imagine 
how readily we all fell in with my friend’s plans. I, of 
course, was the moving spirit in it all ; mine was the genius 
which was destined to turn gilded romance into grim 
reality. Yes, grim! For you shall see! . . . 

Mile. Goldberg, senior, who appropriately enough was 
named Sarah, gave us the clue how to proceed, after 
which my genius worked alone. 

You must know that old Goldberg’s house in the Rue 
des Medecins — a large apartment house in which he oc- 
cupied a few rooms on the ground floor behind his shop — 
backed on to a small uncultivated garden which ended 
in a tall brick wall, the meeting-place of all the felines 
in the neighbourhood, and in which there was a small 
postern gate, now disused. This gate gave on a narrow 
cul-de-sac — grandiloquently named Passage Corneille — 
which was flanked on the opposite side by the tall bound- 
ary wall of an adjacent convent. 

That cul-de-sac was marked out from the very first in 
my mind as our objective. Around and about it, as it 
were, did I build the edifice of my schemes, aided by the 
ever-willing Sarah. The old maid threw herself into the 
affair with zest, planning and contriving like a veritable 
strategist; and I must admit that she was full of resource 
and invention. We were now in mid-May and enjoying 
a spell of hot summer weather. This gave the inventive 
Sarah the excuse for using the back garden as a place 
wherein to sit in the cool of the evening in the company 
of her niece. 

Ah, you see the whole thing now at a glance, do you 


AN OVER SENSITIVE HEART 


231 


not ? The postern gate, the murky night, the daring lover, 
the struggling maiden, the willing accomplices. The ac- 
tors were all there, ready for the curtain to be rung up on 
the palpitating drama. 

Then it was that a brilliant idea came into my brain. 
It was born on the very day that I realized with indis- 
putable certainty that the lovely Leah was not in reality 
in love with Rochez. He fatuously believed that she was 
ready to fall into his arms, that only maidenly timidity 
held her back, and that the moment she had been snatched 
from her father’s house and found herself in the arms of 
her adoring lover, she would turn to him in the very 
fullness of love and confidence. 

But I knew better. I had caught a look now and again 
— an undefinable glance, which told me the whole pitiable 
tale. She did not love Rochez; and in the drama which 
we were preparing to enact the curtain would fall on his 
rapture and her unhappiness. 

Ah, Sir ! imagine what my feelings were when I realized 
this ! This fair girl, against whom we were all conspiring 
like so many traitors, was still ignorant of the fatal brink 
on which she stood. She chatted and coquetted and 
smiled, little dreaming that in a very few days her happi- 
ness would be wrecked and she would be linked for life to 
a man whom she could never love. Rochez’s idea, of 
course, was primarily to get hold of her fortune. I had 
already ascertained for him, through the ever-willing 
Sarah, that this fortune came from Leah’s grandfather, 
who had left a sum of two hundred thousand francs on 
trust for her children, she to enjoy the income for her 


) 


282 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


life. There certainly was a clause in the will whereby the 
girl would forfeit that fortune if she married without her 
father’s consent; but according to Rochez’s plans this 
could scarcely be withheld once she had been taken forcibly 
away from home, held in durance, and with her reputation 
hopelessly compromised. She could then pose as an 
injured victim, throw herself at her father’s feet, and beg 
him to give that consent without which she would for ever 
remain an outcast of society, a pariah amongst her kind. 

A pretty piece of villainous combination, you will own ! 
And I, Sir, was to lend a hand in this abomination ! — nay, 
I was to be the chief villain in the drama ! It was I who, 
even now, was spending the hours of the night, when I 
might have been dreaming sentimental dreams, in oiling 
the lock of the postern gate which was to give us access 
into papa Goldberg’s garden. It was I who, under cover 
of darkness and guided by that old jade Sarah, was to 
sneak into that garden on the appointed night and forcibly 
seize the unsuspecting maiden and carry her to the car- 
riage which Rochez would have in readiness for her. 

You see what a coward he was! It was a criminal 
offence in those days, punishable with deportation to New 
Caledonia, to abduct a young lady from her parents’ 
house ; and Rochez left me the dirty work to do in case 
the girl screamed and attracted the police. Now you will 
tell me if I was not justified in doing what I did, and I 
will abide by your judgment. 

I was to take all the risks, remember ! — New Caledonia, 
the police, the odium attached to so foul a deed; and do 
you know for what? For a paltry thousand francs, 


AN OVER-SENSITIVE HEART 


233 


which with much difficulty I had induced Rochez — nay, 
forced him ! — to hand over to me in anticipation of what 
I was about to accomplish for his sake. A thousand 
francs! Did this miserliness not characterize the man? 
Was it to such a scrubby knave that I, at risk of my life 
and of my honour, would hand over that jewel amongst 
women, that pearl above price? — a lady with a personal 
fortune amounting to two hundred thousand francs? 

No, Sir; I would not! Then and there I vowed that I 
would not! Mine were to be all the risks; then mine 
should be the reward! What Rochez meant to do, that 
I could too, and with far greater reason. The lovely Leah 
did at times frown on Fernand; but she invariably smiled 
on me. She would fall into my arms far more readily 
than into his, and papa Goldberg would be equally forced 
to give his consent to her marriage with me as with that 
self-seeking carpet-knight whom he abhorred. 

Needless to say, I kept my own counsel, and did not 
speak of my project even to Sarah. To all appearances 
I was to be the mere tool in this affair, the unfortunate 
cat employed to snatch the roast chestnuts out of the fire 
for the gratification of a mealy-mouthed monkey. 

§ 3 

The appointed day and hour were at hand. Fernand 
Rochez had engaged a barouche which was to take him 
and his lovely victim to a little house at Auteuil, which 
he had rented for the purpose. There the lovers were to 
lie perdu until such time as papa Goldberg had relented 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


284 

and the marriage could be duly solemnized in the syna- 
gogue of the Rue des Halles. Sarah had offered in the 
meanwhile to do all that in her power lay to soften the 
old man’s heart and to bring about the happy conclusion 
of the romantic adventure. 

For the latter we had chosen the night of May 23rd. 
It was a moonless night, and the Passage Corneille, from 
whence I was to operate, was most usefully dark. Sarah 
Goldberg had, according to convention, left the postern 
gate on the latch, and at ten o’clock precisely I made my 
way up the cul-de-sac and cautiously turned the handle 
of the door. I confess that my heart beat somewhat un- 
comfortably in my bosom. 

I had left Rochez and his barouche in the Rue des 
Pipots, about a hundred metres from the angle of the 
Passage Corneille, and it was along those hundred metres 
of a not altogether unfrequented street that he expected 
me presently to carry a possibly screaming and struggling 
burden in the very teeth of a gendarmerie always on the 
look-out for exciting captures. 

No, Sir; that was not to be! And it was with a 
resolute if beating heart that I presently felt the postern 
gate yielding to the pressure of my hand. The neighbour- 
ing church clock of St. Sulpice had just finished striking 
ten. I pushed open the gate and tip-toed across the 
threshold. 

In the garden the boughs of a dilapidated old ash tree 
were soughing in the wind above my head, whilst from the 
top of the boundary wall the yarring and yowling of 
beasts of the feline species grated unpleasantly on my ear. 


AN OVER-SENSITIVE HEART 


235 


I could not see my hand before my eyes, and had just 
stretched it out in order to guide my footsteps when it 
was seized with a kindly yet firm pressure, whilst a voice 
murmured softly : 

“Hush !” 

“Who is it ?” I whispered in response. 

“It is I — Sarah !” the voice replied. “Everything is all 
right, but Leah is unsuspecting. I am sure that if she 
suspected anything she would not set foot outside the 
door.” 

“What shall we do?” I asked. 

“Wait here a moment quietly,” Sarah rejoined, speak- 
ing in a rapid whisper, “under cover of this wall. Within 
the next few minutes Leah will come out of the house. I 
have left my knitting upon a garden chair, and I will 
ask her to run out and fetch it. That will be your op- 
portunity. The chair is in the angle of the wall, there,” 
she added, pointing to her right, “not three paces from 
where you are standing now. Leah has a white dress on. 
She will have to stoop in order to pick up the knitting. I 
have taken the precaution to entangle the wool in the leg 
of the chair, so she will be some few seconds entirely at 
your mercy. Have you a shawl?” 

I had, of course, provided myself with one. A shawl 
is always a necessary adjunct to such adventures. Breath- 
lessly, silently, I intimated to my kind accomplice that I 
would obey her behests and that I was prepared for every 
eventuality. The next moment her hold upon my hand 
relaxed, she gave another quickly-whispered “Hush !” and 
disappeared into the night. 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


236 

For a second or two after that my ear caught the soft 
sound of her retreating footsteps, then nothing more. 
To say that I felt anxious and ill at ease was but to put 
it mildly. I was face to face with an adventure which 
might cost me at least five years’ acute discomfort in New 
Caledonia, but which might also bring me as rich a re- 
ward as could befall any man of modest ambitions: a 
lovely wife and a comfortable fortune. My whole life 
seemed to be hanging on a thread, and my overwrought 
senses seemed almost to catch the sound of the spinning- 
wheel of Fate weaving the web of my destiny. 

A moment or two later I again caught the distinct 
sound of a gentle footfall upon the soft earth. My eyes 
by now were somewhat accustomed to the gloom. It was 
very dark, you understand; but through the darkness I 
saw something white moving slowly toward me. Then 
my heart thumped more furiously than ever before. I 
dared not breathe. I saw the lovely Leah approaching, or, 
rather, I felt her approach, for it was too dark to see. 
She moved in the direction which Sarah had indicated to 
me as being the place where stood the garden chair with 
the knitting upon it. I grasped the shawl. I was ready. 

Another few seconds of agonising suspense went by. 
The fair Leah had ceased to move. Undoubtedly she 
was engaged in disentangling the wool from the leg of 
the chair. That was my opportunity. More stealthy than 
any cat, I tiptoed toward the chair — and, indeed, at that 
moment I blessed the sudden yowl set up by some feline 
in its wrath which rent the still night air and effectually 
drowned any sound which I might make. 


AN OVER-SENSITIVE HEART 


m 

There, not three paces away from me, was the dim 
outline of the young girl’s form vaguely discernible in the 
gloom — a white mass, almost motionless, against a back- 
ground of inky blackness. With a quick intaking of my 
breath I sprang forward, the shawl outspread in my hand, 
and with a quick dexterous gesture I threw it over her 
head, and the next second had her, faintly struggling, in 
my arms. She was as light as a feather, and I was as 
strong as a giant. Think of it, Sir 1 There was I, alone 
in the darkness, holding in my arms, together with a lovely 
form, a fortune of two hundred thousand francs ! 

Of that fool Fernand Rochez I did not trouble to 
think. He had a barouche waiting up the Rue des Pipots, 
a hundred metres from the corner of the Passage Cor- 
neille, but I had a chaise and pair of horses waiting down 
that same street, and that now was my objective. Yes, 
Sir ! I had arranged the whole thing ! But I had done it 
for mine own advantage, not for that of the miserly 
friend who had been too great a coward to risk his own 
skin for the sake of his beloved. 

The guerdon was mine, and I was determined this time 
that no traitor or ingrate should filch from me the re- 
ward of my labours. With the thousand francs which 
Rochez had given me for my services I had engaged the 
chaise and horses, paid the coachman lavishly, and secured 
a cosy little apartment for my future wife in a pleasant 
hostelry I knew of at Suresnes. 

I had taken the precaution to leave the wicket-gate on 
the latch. With my foot I pushed it open, and, keeping 
well under the cover of the tall convent wall, I ran swiftly 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


238 

to the comer of the Rue des Pipots. Here I paused a 
moment. Through the silence of the night my ear caught 
the faint sound of horses snorting and harness jingling in 
the distance, both sides from where I stood; but of gen- 
darmes or passers-by there was no sign. Gathering up the 
full measure of my courage and holding my precious 
burden closer to my heart, I ran quickly down the street. 

Within the next few seconds I had the seemingly inani- 
mate maiden safely deposited in the inside of the barouche 
and myself sitting by her side. The driver cracked his 
whip, and whilst I, happy but exhausted, was mopping 
my streaming forehead the chaise rattled gaily along the 
uneven pavements of the great city in the direction of 
Suresnes. 

What that fool Rochez was doing I could not definitely 
ascertain. I looked through the vasistas of the coach, but 
could see nothing in pursuit of us. Then I turned my full 
attention to my lovely companion. It was pitch dark 
inside the carriage, you understand; only from time to 
time, as we drove past an overhanging street lanthorn, I 
caught a glimpse of that priceless bundle beside me, which 
lay there so still and so snug, still wrapped up in the 
shawl. 

With cautious, loving fingers I undid its folds. Under 
cover of the darkness the sweet and modest creature, re- 
leased of her bonds, turned for an instant to me, and for 
a few, very few, happy seconds I held her in my arms. 

“Have no fear, fair one,” I murmured in her ear. 
“It is I, Hector Ratichon, who adores you and who cannot 
live without you ! Forgive me for this seeming violence, 


AN OVER-SENSITIVE HEART 


239 


which was prompted by an undying passion, and re- 
member that to me you are as sacred as a divinity until 
the happy hour when I can proclaim you to the world 
as my beloved wife !” 

I pressed her against my heart, and my lips imprinted a 
delicate kiss upon her forehead. After which, with chaste 
decorum, she once more turned away from me, covered 
her face and head with the shawl, and drew back into the 
remote corner of the carriage, where she remained, silent 
and absorbed, no doubt, in the contemplation of her hap- 
piness. 

I respected her silence, and I, too, fell to meditating 
upon my good fortune. Here was I, Sir, within sight of 
a haven wherein I could live through the twilight of my 
days in comfort and in peace, a beautiful young wife, a 
modest fortune ! I had never in my wildest dreams en- 
visaged a Fate more fair. The little house at Chantilly 
which I coveted, the plot of garden, the espalier peaches — 
all, all would be mine now ! It seemed indeed too good to 
be true ! 

The very next moment I was rudely awakened from 
those golden dreams by a loud clatter, and stern voices 
shouting the ominous word, “Halt !” The carriage drew 
up with such a jerk that I was flung off my seat against 
the front window and my nose seriously bruised. A faint 
cry of terror came from the precious bundle beside me. 

“Have no fear, my beloved,” I whispered hurriedly. 
“Your own Hector will protect you !” 

Already the door of the carriage had been violently 


MO CASTLES IN THE AIR 

torn open ; the next moment a gruff voice called out per- 
emptorily : 

‘‘By order of the Chief Commissary of Police !” 

I was dumbfounded. In what manner had the Chief 
Commissary of Police been already apprised of this af- 
fair? The whole thing was, of course, a swift and 
vengeful blow dealt to me by that cowardly Rochez. But 
how, in the name of thunder, had he got to work so quick- 
ly ? But, of course, there was no time now for reflection. 
The gruff voice was going on more peremptorily and more 
insistently : 

“Is Hector Ratichon here?” 

I was dumb. My throat had closed up, and I could not 
have uttered a sound to save my life. The police had even 
got my name quite straight! 

“Now then, Ratichon,” that same irascible voice con- 
tinued, “get out of there! In the name of the law I 
charge you with the abduction of a defenceless female, 
and my orders are to bring you forthwith before the Chief 
Commissary of Police.” 

Then it was, Sir, that bliss once more re-entered my 
soul. I had just felt a small hand pressing something 
crisp into mine, whilst a soft voice whispered in my ear : 

“Give him this, and tell him to let you go in peace. Say 
that I am Mademoiselle Goldberg, your promised wife.” 

The feel of that crackling note in my hand at once 
restored my courage. Covering the lovely creature be- 
side me with a protecting arm, I replied boldly to the 
minion of the law. 

“This lady,” I said, “is my affianced wife. You, Sir 


AN OVER SENSITIVE HEART 


241 


Gendarme, are overstepping your powers. I demand that 
you let us proceed in peace.” 

“My orders are ” the gendarme resumed; but al- 

ready my sensitive ear had detected a faint wavering in 
the gruff ness of his voice. The hectoring tone had gone 
out of it. I could not see him, of course, but somehow 
I felt that his attitude had become less arrogant and his 
glance more shifty. 

“This gentleman has spoken the truth,” now came in 
soft, dulcet tones from under the shawl that wrapped 
the head of my beloved. “I am Mile. Goldberg, M. le 
Gendarme, and I am travelling with M. Hector Ratichon 
entirely of my own free will, since I have promised him 
that I would be his wife.” 

“Ah!” the gendarme ejaculated, obviously mollified. 
“If Mademoiselle is the fiancee of Monsieur, and is act- 
ing of her own free will ” 

“It is not for you to interfere, eh, my friend?” I 
broke in jocosely. “You will now let us proceed in peace, 
and for your trouble you will no doubt accept this token 
of my consideration.” And, groping in the darkness, I 
found the rough hand of the gendarme, and speedily 
pressed into it the crisp note which my adored one had 
given to me. 

“Ah!” he said, with very obvious gratification. “If 
Monsieur Ratichon will assure me that Mademoiselle here 
is indeed his affianced wife, then indeed it is not a case 
of adbuction, and ” 

“Abduction!” I retorted, flaring up in righteous indig- 
nation. “Who dares to use the word in connexion with 


242 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


this lovely lady? Mademoiselle Goldberg, I swear, will 
be Madame Ratichon within the next four and twenty 
hours. And the sooner you, Sir Gendarme, allow us to 
proceed on our way the less pain will you cause to this 
distressed and virtuous damsel.” 

This settled the whole affair quite comfortably. The 
gendarme shut the carriage door with a bang, and at my 
request gave the order to the driver to proceed. The 
latter once again cracked his whip, and once again the 
cumbrous vehicle, after an awkward lurch, rattled on its 
way along the cobblestones of the sleeping city. 

Once more I was alone with the priceless treasure by 
my side — alone and happy — more happy, I might say, 
than I had been before. Had not my adored one openly 
acknowledged her love for me and her desire to stand 
with me at the hymeneal altar? To put it vulgarly — 
though vulgarity in every form is repellent to me — she 
had burnt her boats. She had allowed her name to be 
coupled with mine in the presence of the minions of the 
law. What, after that, could her father do but give his 
consent to a union which alone would save his only child's 
reputation from the cruelty of waggish tongues ? 

No doubt, Sir, that I was happy. True, that when the 
uncouth gendarme finally slammed to the door of our 
carriage and we restarted on our way, my ears had been 
unpleasantly tickled by the sound of prolonged and ribald 
laughter — laughter which sounded strangely and unpleas- 
antly familiar. But after a few seconds’ serious reflection 
I dismissed the matter from my thoughts. If, as indeed I 
gravely suspected, it was Fernand Rochez who had striven 


AN OVER-SENSITIVE HEART 


243 


thus to put a spoke in the wheel of my good fortune, he 
would certainly not have laughed when I drove triumph- 
antly away with my conquered bride by my side. And, of 
course, my ears must have deceived me when they caught 
the sound of a girl’s merry laugh mingling with the more 
ribald one of the man. 


§ 4 

I have paused purposely, Sir, ere I embark upon the 
narration of the final stage of this, my life’s adventure. 

The chaise was bowling along the banks of the river 
toward Suresnes. Presently the driver struck to his 
right and plunged into the fastnesses of the Bois de 
Boulogne. For a while, therefore, we were in utter 
darkness. My lovely companion neither moved nor spoke. 
Somewhere in the far distance a church clock struck 
eleven. One whole hour had gone by since first I had 
embarked on this great undertaking. 

I was excited, feverish. The beautiful Leah’s silence 
and tranquillity grated upon my nerves. I could not 
understand how she could remain there so placid when her 
whole life’s happiness had so suddenly, so unexpectedly, 
keen assured. I became more and more fidgety as time 
went on. Soon I felt that I could no longer hold myself 
in proper control. Being of an impulsive disposition, this 
tranquil acceptance of so great a joy became presently 
intolerable, and, unable to restrain* my ardour any longer, 
I seized that passive bundle- of loveliness in my arms. 

“Have no fear,” I murmured once again, as I pressed 
her to my heart. 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


244 

But my admonition was obviously unnecessary. The 
beautiful Leah showed not the slightest sign of fear. 
She rested her head against my shoulder and put one arm 
around my neck. I was in raptures. 

Just then the vehicle swung out of the Bois and once 
more rattled upon the cobblestones. This time we were 
nearing Suresnes. A vague light, emanating from the 
lanthorns at the bridge-head, was already faintly visible 
ahead of us. Soon it grew brighter. The next moment 
we passed immediately beneath the lanthorns. The in- 
terior of the carriage was flooded with light . . . and, 
Sir, I gave a gasp of unadulterated dismay! The being 
whom I held in my arms, whose face was even at that 
moment raised up to my own, was not the lovely Leah! 
It was Sarah, Sir! Sarah Goldberg, the dour, angular 
aunt, whose yellow teeth gleamed for one brief moment 
through her thin lips as she threw me one of those glances 
of amorous welcome which invariably sent a cold shiver 
down my spine. Sarah Goldberg! I scarce could be- 
lieve my eyes, and for a moment did indeed think that 
the elusive, swiftly -vanished Jight of the bridge-head 
lanthorns had played my excited senses a weird and cruel 
trick. But no! The very next second proved my disil- 
lusionment. Sarah spoke to me ! 

She spoke to me and laughed! Ah, she was happy, 
Sir! Happy in that she had completely and irrevocably 
tricked me ! That traitor Fernand Rochez was up to the 
neck in the plot which had saddled me for ever with an 
ugly, elderly wife of dour mien and no fortune, while 
he and the lovely Leah were spinning the threads of per- 


AN OVER-SENSITIVE HEART 


245 


feet love at the other end of Paris and laughing their 
fill at my discomfiture. Think, Sir, what I suffered dur- 
ing those few brief minutes while the coach lurched 
through the narrow streets of Suresnes, and I had per- 
force to listen to the protestations of undying love from 
this unprepossessing female! 

That love, she vowed, was her excuse, and everything, 
she asserted, was fair in love and war. She knew that 
after Rochez had attained his heart’s desire and carried 
off the lady of his choice — which he had successfully done 
half an hour before I myself made my way up the Passage 
Corneille — I would pass out of her life for ever. This 
she could not endure. Life at once would become intoler- 
able. And, aided and abetted by Rochez and Leah, she 
had planned and contrived my mystification and won 
me by foul means, since she could not do so by fair ; and 
it seemed as if her volubility then was the forecast of what 
my life with her would be in the future. Talk! Talk! 
Talk! She never ceased! 

She told me the whole story of the abominable con- 
spiracy against my liberty. Her brother, M. Goldberg, 
she explained, had determined upon re-marriage. She, 
Sarah, felt that henceforth she would be in the way of 
everybody; she would have no home. Leah married to 
Rochez; a new and young Mme. Goldberg ruling in the 
old house of the Rue des Medecins! Ah, it was un- 
thinkable ! 

And I, Sir — I, Hector Ratichon — had, it appears, by 
my polite manners and prepossessing ways, induced this 
dour old maid to believe that she was not altogether in- 


24 6 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


different to me. Ah, how I cursed my own charms, when 
I realised whither they had led me ! It seems that it was 
that fickle jade Leah who first imagined the whole ex- 
ecrable plot. Rochez was to entrust me with the task of 
carrying off his beloved, and thus I would be tricked in 
the darkness into abducting Mile. Goldberg senior from 
her home. Then some friends of Rochez arranged to 
play the comedy of false gendarmes, and again I was 
tricked into acknowledging Sarah as my affianced wife 
before independent witnesses. After that I could no 
longer repudiate mine honourable intentions, for if I did, 
then I should be arraigned before the law on a criminal 
charge of abduction. In this comedy of false gendarmes 
Rochez himself and the heartless Leah had joined with 
zest and laughed over my discomfiture, whilst the friends 
who played their roles to such perfection had a paltry hun- 
dred francs each as the price of this infamous trick. Now 
my doom was sealed, and all that was left for me to do 
was to think disconsolately over my future. 

I did bitterly reproach Sarah for her treachery and 
tried to still her protestations of love by pointing out to 
her that I had absolutely no fortune, and could only offer 
her a life of squalor, not to say of what. But this she 
knew, and vowed that penury by my side would make her 
happier than luxury beside any other man. Ah, Sir, ’tis 
given to few men to arouse such selfless passion in a 
woman’s heart, and it hath oft been my dream in the past 
one day thus to be adored for myself alone ! 

But for the moment I was too deeply angered to listen 
placidly to Sarah’s vows of undying affection. My nerves 


AN OVER SENSITIVE HEART 


247 


were irritated by her fulsome adulation; indeed, I could 
not bear the sight of her nor yet the sound of her voice. 
You may imagine how thankful I was when the chaise 
came at last to a halt outside the humble little hostelry 
where I had engaged the room which I had so fondly 
hoped would have been occupied by the lovely and fickle 
Leah. 

I bundled Mile. Goldberg senior into the house, and 
here again I had to endure galling mortification in the 
shape of sidelong glances cast at me and my future bride 
by the landlord of the hostelry and his ill-bred daughter. 
When I engaged the room I had very foolishly told them 
that it would be occupied by a lovely lady who had con- 
sented to be my wife, and that she would remain here in 
happy seclusion until such time as all arrangements for 
our wedding were complete. The humiliation of these 
vulgar people’s irony seemed like the last straw which 
overweighed my forbearance. The room and pension I 
had already paid two days in advance, so I had nothing 
more to say either to the ribald landlord or to Mile. 
Goldberg senior. I was bitterly angered against her, and 
refused her the solace of a kindly look or of an en- 
couraging pressure from my hand, even though she waited 
for both with the pathetic patience of an old spaniel. 

I re-entered the coach, which was to take me back to 
mine own humble lodgings in Passy. Here at least I was 
alone — alone with my gloomy thoughts. My heart was 
full of wrath against the woman who had so basely tricked 
me, and I viewed with dismay amounting almost to 
despair the prospect of spending the rest of my life in 


248 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


her company. That night I slept but little, nor yet the 
following night, or the night after that. Those days I 
spent in seclusion, thankful for my solitude. 

Twice each day did Mile. Goldberg come to my lodg- 
ings. In the foolish past I had somewhat injudiciously 
acquainted her of where I lived. Now she came and 
asked to be allowed to see me, but invariably did I refuse 
thus to gratify her. I felt that time* alone would per- 
haps soften my feelings a little towards her. In the 
meanwhile I must commend her discretion and delicacy of 
procedure. She did not in any way attempt to molest me. 
,When she was told by Theodore — whom I employed dur- 
ing the day to guard me against unW'elcome visitors — that 
I refused to see her, she invariably went away without 
demur, nor did she refer in any way, either with ad- 
jurations or threats, to the impending wedding. Indeed, 
Sir, she was a lady of vast discretion^ 

On the third day, however, I received a visit from M. 
Goldberg himself. I could, not refuse to see him. In- 
deed, he would not be denied, but roughly pushed Theo- 
dore aside, who tried to hinder him. He had come armed 
with a riding-whip, and nothing but mine own innate 
dignity saved me from outrage. He came, Sir, with a 
marriage licence for his sister and me in one pocket and 
with a denunciation to the police- against me for abduc- 
tion in another. He gave me the choice. What could I 
do, Sir? I was like a helpless babe in the hands of un- 
scrupulous brigands! 

The marriage licence was for the following day — at 
the mairie of the eighth arrondissement first, and in the 


AN OVER-SENSITIVE HEART 


249 


synagogue of the Rue des Halles afterwards. I chose 
the marriage licence. What could I do, Sir? I was 
helpless ! 

Of my wedding day I have but a dim recollection. It 
was all hustle and bustle; from the mairie to the syna- 
gogue, and thence to the house of M. Goldberg in the Rue 
des Medecins. I must say that the old usurer received me 
and my bride with marked amiability. He was, I gath- 
ered, genuinely pleased that his sister had found happi- 
ness and a home by the side of an honourable man, seeing 
that he himself was on the point of contracting a fresh 
alliance with a Jewish lady of unsurpassed loveliness. 

Of Rochez and Leah we saw nothing that day, and from 
one of two words which M. Goldberg let fall I concluded 
that he was greatly angered against his daughter because 
of her marriage with a fortune-hunting adventurer, who, 
he weirdly hinted, had already found quick and exem- 
plary punishment for his crime. I was sincerely glad to 
hear this, even though I could not get M. Goldberg to 
explain in what that exemplary punishment consisted. 

The climax came at six o’clock of that eventful after- 
noon, at the hour when I, with the newly-enthroned Mme. 
Ratichon on my arm, was about to take leave of M. 
Goldberg. I must admit that at that moment my heart 
was overflowing with bitterness. I had been led like a 
lamb to the slaughter; I had been made to look foolish 
and absurd in the midst of this Israelite community which 
I despised; I was saddled for the rest of my life with an 
unprepossessing elderly wife, who could do naught for me 
but share the penury, the hard crusts, the onion pies with 


250 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


me and Theodore. The only advantage I might ever de- 
rive from her was that she would darn my stockings, sew 
the buttons on my vests, and goffer the frills of my shirts ! 

Was this not enough to turn any man's naturally sweet 
disposition to gall? No doubt my mobile face betrayed 
something of the bitterness of my thoughts, for M. Gold- 
berg at one moment slapped me vigorously on the back 
and bade me be of good cheer, as things were not so bad 
as I imagined. I was on the point of asking him what 
he meant when I saw another gentleman advancing to- 
ward me. His face, which was sallow and oily, bore a 
kind of obsequious smile; his clothes were of rusty black, 
and his features were markedly Jewish in character. He 
had some law papers under his arm, and he was perpet- 
ually rubbing his thin, bony hands together as if he were 
for ever washing them. 

“Monsieur Hector Ratichon,” he said unctuously, “it 
is with much gratification that I bring you the joyful 
news.” 

Joyful news! — to me! Ah, Sir, the words struck at 
first with cruel irony upon mine ear. But not so a second 
later, for the Jewish gentleman went on speaking, and 
what he said appeared to my reeling senses like songs of 
angels from paradise. 

At first I could not grasp his full meaning. A moment 
ago I had been in the depths of despair, and now — now — 
a whole vista of beatitude opened out before me ! What 
the worthy Israelite said was that, by the terms of Grand- 
papa Goldberg’s will, if Leah married without her 
father’s consent, one-half of the fortune destined for her 


AN OVER-SENSITIVE HEART 


251 


would revert to her aunt, Sarah Goldberg, now Madame 
Hector Ratichon. 

Can you wonder that I could scarce believe my ears? 
One-half that fortune meant that a hundred thousand 
francs would now become mine! M. Goldberg had al- 
ready made it very clear to his daughter and to Rochez 
that he would never give his consent to their marriage, 
and, as this was now consummated, they had already for- 
feited one-half of the grandfather’s fortune in favour of 
my Sarah. That was the exemplary punishment which 
they were to suffer for their folly. 

But their folly — aye ! and their treachery — had become 
my joy. In this moment of heavenly rapture I was 
speechless, but I turned to Sarah with loving arms out- 
stretched, and the next instant she nestled against my 
heart like a joyful if elderly bird. 

What is said of a people, Sir, is also true of the in- 
dividual. Happy he who hath no history. Since that 
never-to-be-forgotten hour my life has run its simple, 
uneventful course here in this quiet corner of our beauti- 
ful France, with my pony and my dog and my chickens, 
and Mme. Ratichon to minister to my creature comforts. 

I bought this little property, Sir, soon after my mar- 
riage, and my office in the Rue Daunou knows me no 
more. You like the house, Sir? Ah, yes! And the 
garden? . . . After dejeuner you must see my prize 
chickens. Theodore will show them to you. You did 
not know Theodore was here? Well, yes! He lives with 
us. Madame Ratichon finds him useful about the house, 


252 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


and, not being used to luxuries, he is on the whole pleas- 
antly contented. 

Ah, here comes Madame Ratichon to tell us that the 
dejeuner is served ! This way, Sir, under the porch. . , * 
After you ! 


THE END 

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